Tangled Memories
by Tomoe2
Summary: Sequel to Forgotten Ties. Following his father's death, Kenji embarks on an unlikely adventure during which he'll learn about his father's past. Will this knowledge reconcile him with the memory of his absentee father?
1. Chapter 1

This is the sequel to "Forgotten Ties."

NOTE: I started this sequel in 2010 then took a 5 year break. I only picked the story back up recently but encountered so many technical problems with that I decided to republish from the start. I did lose the reviews, which sucks... I hope you'll enjoy the story!

 ** _Chapter 1_**

 ** _Bearer of sad news_**

Kenji sat on a bench outside his master's hut. On the ground at his feet lay a sheathed sword. It was a beautiful weapon. Although the hilt and scabbard were quite simple, the craftsmanship was of undeniable quality. A superior sword. But most of all, with its reversed blade, a useless weapon. Kenji did not dare look at the sharp blade but he knew without even a glance what he would find. Cold steel, as cold has the heart of the man who had yielded it. The boy of fifteen didn't want this katana. He didn't want anything to do with it. Yet, he had been unable to refuse it when Yahiko had given it to him. Then again, the man was like a brother to him and he could hardly deny him anything. Or so he had thought until yesterday. For although he had taken the sword he had categorically refused to go back to his home in Tokyo.

"Your mother is very sick and your father still hasn't come back. Megumi thinks Kaoru will hold until Kenshin comes back, but she could easily..." Yahiko had stopped mid-sentence, unable to voice the inevitable.

Yahiko loved Kaoru like a mother, a sister and a friend. He owed her his life, or so he said. Kenji also loved his mother more than anything else, but the thought of seeing his father had hardened his will to remain in Kyoto. He had refused to follow Yahiko, who had returned to Aoiya alone.

Now Kenji couldn't stop staring at the sword, hatred filling his heart. He had heard of his dad's recent deed and could not deny that the man had sacrificed much to bring peace and happiness to this world, but Kenji wished, deep down inside, that Kenshin had given him and his mother a share of this happiness. The samurai had rarely been home during the last ten years, leaving his mother waiting and worrying. Kenji hated the man. He hated his father and hoped with all his heart that he had died at sea during one of his trips. He did not wish to see him again. Ever.

"What are you doing there? Shouldn't you be training?" asked a manly voice.

Kenji lifted his head to see his master, Hiko Seijuro. No matter how many time he looked at him, he couldn't help but marvel at the man's face; he looked way too young to be in his fifties. Even his father looked older than the sword master.

"If you're not going back to Tokyo you should not waste your time brooding over a worthless piece of metal. Go!"

Hiko all but kicked his young pupil off the bench and pushed him towards the training area. Kenji reluctantly walked away, turning around one last time to take a look at the sakabato. Satisfied with his student, the sword master sat on the bench and picked up the sword at his feet. He slowly unsheathed it, looking at the hamon. A fine sword if there was ever one. Too bad his baka-deshi couldn't wield it anymore. Hopefully, Kenji would come to his senses and start using it or at least take good care of it. Hiko slid back the sword into its scabbard without a sound. Fine craftsmanship indeed. Setting the sword aside, he took the sake jar he had just purchased and and drank from it. He grimaced. It wasn't good today. Something was troubling his heart. Had his fear come true?

Kenji was training. The noon sun was shining hard on him and he sweated abundantly. He was about to make a battou stance when the straw strap of his zori suddenly snapped. Setting down his wooden training sword, the boy kneeled down to see the damage and if it could be fixed. After looking closely he determined that he would need to replace the strap with a piece of string else he would trip on his shoe. As he was about to stand back up, he sensed a presence. Swiftly grabbing his training sword, he pivoted and stood up to face his potential opponent. He immediately relaxed when he saw that it was Yahiko standing there, staring at him with a somewhat forlorn look.

"What is it? I told you I'm not going back to Tokyo."

The boy was expecting Yahiko to say something yet the man just stood there. Kenji noticed that he was panting and sweating, as if he had just trained, or ran. Curious, the boy got closer. As he did, he noticed that the man was clutching a piece of paper in his hand. However, what stopped the red-haired swordman in his tracks was Yahiko's eyes. They were wild, but mostly, red, as if the man had been crying. Kenji swallowed hard, not daring to think of anything.

Yahiko suddenly walked forward, making Kenji jump. Then, he grabbed his shoulders harder than he should have and looked at him dead in the eye.

"Kenhin. I mean your dad. He is back. He... he passed away."

Kenji's mind blanked. Who? Who had died? Could it be true?

"He died?" he managed to say.

Yahiko nodded, obviously holding back tears. The sight enraged Kenji. What right had this man to mourn his father? Had he been there for him more than he had been there for Kenji? Surely not. Suddenly raging, the boy broke free of Yahiko's hold and walked away.

"Good riddance."

Having said that, he started to practice again. As he did, he heard Yahiko sniff. He tightened his grip on his sword.

Yahiko knew of Kenji's hard feelings towards Kenshin. He had tried to change the boy's mind a thousand times but actions spoke louder than words and the stories of Kenshin's great deed had failed to fill the void left by the man's absence. But it hurt him to hear the boy speak such harsh words. Kenshin had been like a father to him, a model to look up to. He just wished that Kenji had understood it better. Of course, the boy was missing a big part of the story. Yahiko sighed. Now that Kenshin was dead, maybe his son would return to Tokyo.

"Kenji. Kaoru, your mother, is gravely sick."

"Because of him," spat the boy.

"She wishes to see you. Don't deny her this. It may be the last chance she has to see you..."

Kenji's knuckled whitened on his sword. He really wanted to go see her. He loved her and missed her very much. Yet he could not forgive her for having chosen her husband over her son. He knew his mother could have avoided Kenshin's affliction. She could have been healthy and strong now if she had listened to everyone and stayed away from him. But now she was dying. Dying. What a terrible thought.

"I...I can't... I..." he mumbled .

"He's going back to Tokyo," said a strong voice behind him.

Kenji turned around to see his master standing in the shade of the tree, his face expressionless as usual.

"But master! I need to..." protested the boy.

Before he could finish his sentence he was flying across the training field from the blow Hiko had given him with his sheathed sword. The elder walked to his pupil, towering over him menacingly.

"How dare you dishonour your parents! Your father has just passed and your mother's life is hanging by a thread! Your place is at her side. I surely did not teach you to betray your parents so!"

Without another word, Hiko walked away. Yahiko followed him back to the hut, leaving the boy alone in the dust with his master"s harsh but true words.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

 _ **A curse and a blessing**_

Kenji stood on the upper deck, the cold ocean breeze caressing his face. The full moon lit the water with its bleak shine. Leaning on the rail, the boy enjoyed a moment of well-deserved solitude. He liked Yahiko, but he was tired of sharing his every waken moment with him. They had left Kyoto for Osaka two days before. On the train, Kenji had remained silent, looking outside. He knew that if he had turned around to look at his travelling companion he would have found him either crying quietly or trying to hide the fact that he was crying. He hadn't been able to bear it. He didn't like to see grown men cry, obviously, but mostly, he hated the idea of his father being mourned. And so he had barely exchanged a word with Yahiko, grunting answers whenever necessary.

They had embarked on the ship at dawn the day before and would soon reach Tokyo. Yahiko had been seasick the whole time, thus giving him no time to think of Kenshin. Kenji had still spent most of his time taking care of Yahiko, against his will. The man was finally asleep, giving the boy a break, but also time to think. He didn't want to think. He was afraid of what was waiting for him at home. He didn't want to think of his dying mother. He didn't want to listen to her words. Surely, _he_ would be the only thing on her mind. He was afraid. Afraid that her words might make him waver. He shook his head. No. His will was strong. His hate even stronger. No matter how people had loved or loved his father, he would not change his mind. They didn't know him like he did. They hadn't seen his shortcomings. He had been a strange man. Kenji believed he was slightly crazy.

How many times had he come back home after a long trip only to lock himself up in his room? How many times had Kenji found him sitting alone on the veranda, talking to himself? How many times had Kenji woken up in the middle of the night to the cries of his father fighting off demons in his dreams? How many times had he walked on his father crying alone in the courtyard at dawn? The man had been crazy, no doubt. Kenji didn't know what had made him like that and he honestly didn't care. All he knew is that he and his mother had suffered from it. All he had ever wanted was a normal family. Was this so much to ask?

Kenji sighed. He didn't get it. He wished he could just turn this ship around and go back to his hut in the woods. There, things were clear. The blade never lied. The boy shuddered, trying to forget the direct connection between his father and the Hiten Mitsurugi.

Yahiko got off the gangplank with a sigh of relief. Nevermore, he thought. He hated ships probably as much as Sanosuke had hated trains. Well, at least, he knew the ship would not take his soul away. He smiled, in spite of himself, then glanced over his shoulder to make sure Kenji was following him. The boy walked reluctantly, a sullen look on his face, but at least he was there. He had feared he would cause some trouble, hide on the ship or try to slip past him and disappear in the crowd. Yahiko sighed again. He could see only sad tidings on the horizon.

The young man walked at a steady pace, trying to see if someone had come for them. He smiled when he saw sweet Tsubame waving at him timidly. She was such a beautiful woman. His woman. Yahiko was proud of his wife and never failed to blush when she lovingly smiled at him. He soon closed the distance that separated them, Kenji in tow. He was about to take her in his arms but stopped himself, looking around with an embarrassed grin. Tsubame pretended not to see it and turned to look at Kenji.

"Okaeri, Kenji," she said in a soft voice.

"Tadaima," mumbled the boy without much conviction.

"Your mother really wants to see you, let's go."

Kenji grunted, and followed the couple. He could tell that Tsubame was worried about Yahiko. She spoke to him in a gentle voice, taking his hand in hers even though they were in public. She was a strong woman and even though Yahiko towered her, he knew that she was the pillar of the couple. She surely had been crying, too, yet her face did not betray her grief. Kenji could also see that if she could fool him, she did not Yahiko. He was obviously worried about her, too. They made a lovely couple. Kenji wished his parents could have had such a quiet and loving relationship. Yahiko wasn't out to save the world and he was entirely devoted to his wife. Nothing similar could be said about his father.

When they reached the house, Kenji was surprised to see that the place was packed with strangers, most of them a lot older than his father had been. Some government officials were also there but that was no surprise; they had been the ones sending him off on those missions. Kenji despised them. To avoid the crowd, the little group walked to the back of the property and got in though the backdoor. The boy was slightly surprised to see that nothing had changed. Everything was as it had been when he had left for Kyoto.

"Kenji, the bath is ready. Please wash and change for the funeral. The black garments should be in your room," said Tsubame.

Funeral. The boy looked at the young woman, panic stricken. They were too late! Tsubame smiled sadly.

"Your father's funeral. Your mother is still alive. She's waiting for you, hurry."

Kenji relaxed. He had to admit that now that he was so close, he could not begrudge his mother. He only wished to see her and talk to her. Without further ado, he headed for the bath, leaving the couple behind. Yahiko watched his brother walk away and then sat on the veranda, followed by his wife. This side of the house was strangely quiet. Slowly, Tsubame leaned on her husband's shoulder. Yahiko put his right arm around her and hugged her.

"How did he take the news," she asked.

"I don't know. Is "good riddance" a blessing or a curse?"

Tsubame sat up, shocked.

"He said that?"

Yahiko looked at his beautiful wife in the eyes. Although she had seen Kenji grow up and knew of his hate for Kenshin, she had always hoped that the boy would come to his senses. She was so candid.

Yahiko nodded, unable to speak. He could feel his grief rush back at him. He had cried so much for Kenshin, yet he felt like he could still cry a river. He felt ashamed. This was not a man's behaviour. Yet, he just couldn't help it. He looked away from his wife, trying to hold back his tears. Tsubame got up and standing in front of Yahiko, she embraced him. Quietly, they cried.

Kenji was all dressed up with his dark grey hakama and his black montsuki kimono. He'd foregone the haori, the heat being too intense. The kimono was adorned with his mother's crest. For some reason, his father had never wanted him to wear his. Probably because he had thought Kenji unworthy of it. The boy wished he could also have taken his mother's name instead of his fathers. He sighed and, after a long pause, walked out of his room. As he got closer to the dojo where the funeral was held, the cacophony caused by the guests got louder and louder. As he got closer, Kenji's step became slower ans slower until he came to a halt at the corner of the building, still hidden from everybody's eyes. His heart was racing. Once he walked past that corner, his father would be really dead. He would be gone forever. Kenji swallowed. He tried to convince himself that he was only nervous to see his mother. He had almost managed to do so when he heard a voice behind him.

"Kenji, is that you?"

Startled, the boy instinctively reached for his sword, which he wasn't carrying. He turned around and found himself looking into the eyes of a beautiful woman. She was a little bit older than his mother, but not by much. There was no mistaking her. She smiled at him and pushed a strand of her long silky black hair behind her right ear. She suddenly reminded him of a fox.

"Megumi oba-san" he said

The woman smiled.

"For a moment there I thought you had forgotten me! It's been a while."

Kenji managed a smile.

"You look just like your father," she added thoughtful.

The boy's smile disappeared. The woman laughed.

"I'm sorry. I forgot, I forgot. Here, don't move. I'll fix your eri."

Megumi started to fiddle with his collar. He could feel her soft fingers on his neck, and her sweet perfume. He was glad when she back away, for he had been about to break down and cry. The woman had not always been by his side, but she had always been an ally. She was the only one who hadn't constantly tried to change his feelings for his father.

"You look perfect. Are you nervous?"

Kenji nodded.

"Don't worry about your badger of a mother. You may have left with a storm, but all is quiet now."

Kenji sighed in relief. Two years before, he had parted with his mother in bad terms. Although he had never acknowledged it, he realized now that he had feared that she would reject him.

"But Kenji, be gentle with her. I won't lie to you; she doesn't have much time left. Try not to upset her, no matter what she tells you. She's still lucid but the sickness sometimes makes her mind wander. Be gentle with her. Can you do that?"

Kenji nodded with a pang of sadness.

"Let's go. Everyone is waiting for you."

Megumi put her hand on the boys shoulder and they both turned the corner.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter 3_**

 ** _A stranger's departure_**

As soon as Kenji came into sight, people grew quiet and looked at him with sadness and pity in their eyes. It disgusted him. He didn't need their pity. He was a man, not a little boy. Some of them offered him their condolences. He bowed in returned. Surely his rudeness would be put on account of his grief. He walked in the dojo. The place was packed with strangers. It was so hot that he had to cut through the heat to make each step. He knew the people around him were looking at him, but he kept his eyes on his father's framed picture, set on top of the family altar. The man's austere expression kindled the fire of his hate. He felt as if time had slowed down. The noise had died out and the only sounds left were his own ragged breath and his heavy steps. Slowly, he knelt down in front of his father's remains and as if in a dream, he lighted a stick of incense. Then, he joined his hands and pretended to pray. But in his heart of hearts, he was uttering a curse. He remained there a long moment.

A hand landing heavily on his shoulder brought him back to reality. The voices came rushing back at him, dizzying him. He looked up. A man he didn't know was looking down on him.

"Your father was a great man. Please accept our condolences."

Kenji looked at the man, not understanding. Megumi came to his rescue.

"The poor boy is so grief stricken; he's not himself. Please allow me to take him to his mother."

The stranger nodded and exchanged a few words with the fox lady. Megumi, then helped the boy to his feet and lead him to Kaoru. When he saw her, Kenji's heart all but broke in a thousand pieces. His mother was so thin. Deep shadows circled her eyes, it was as if she stared at the world from a deep cavern. Her cheek were hollow and her lips parched. She sat straight with the help of a carved chair. Her hands lay on her knees, her fingers bony, her veins like so many blue ridges. She looked like a living corpse. Kenji held back his tears. Where was the woman he had left two years before? Sickness had ravaged her and it was all because of _him_.

When she saw her son, Kaoru's face lighted up and she tried to stand. Tae, who was stood next to hear tried to stop her but even in sickness, there was no stopping that woman. Kenji rushed to her and made her sit back down. He took her bare hands and noticed that she was covered with bandages to her wrists. He looked at her face. With her smile, she was still beautiful.

"Kenji. I'm so glad you're here," she said, her voice unchanged.

The boy nodded, unable to speak.

"Your father came back. He will never leave us again."

Kenji squeezed his mother's hands unable to stand her expression. Why did she look so at peace? He just couldn't understand. She should have been crying. She had loved him and he had deserted her, wasn't it normal to cry? Once again, his mother's feelings were confusing him. He tried to control his anger. Megumi came to the rescue.

"Kaoru, I think you should rest. Let Kenji take over."

Kaoru looked fiercely at the woman.

"I'm not moving. You can't fool me. I know I don't have much longer left."

Tae protested indignantly but the sick woman brushed her words aside with a wave of her hand.

"Resting will not make me better. Kenshin needs me by his side. I will rest tonight when this is over."

Kaoru lowered her eyes to looked at her son still kneeling in front of her.

"Now sit next to me Shinta and greet your father's guests."

Kenji looked up at Megumi. Shinta? Who was Shinta? The fox lady shrugged and motioned for Kenji to sit between his mother and his father's coffin.

People came and went, talked to him and his mother but he didn't really listen. Images crossed his mind like clouds cross the sky, far away, indefinite, intangible. In his dreamlike state, he still managed to be impressed at the number of people who came to pay his father their respects. Some of them were even foreigners.

The sun was low on the horizon and candles were being lit when the guests finally started to leave. Only family and friends remained when a rugged man dressed in dirty white clothes walked in. His hair and beard were unkempt and he looked as if he hadn't taken a bath in a long time. He walked straight for Kenshin's coffin and knelt in front of it. Everybody looked at him while he lit some incense. Kenji expected him to pray but the man took a jar of sake out of his travelling bag. He then uncorked the bottle and poured the liquid on top of the altar. Kenji jumped to his feet. Who was this man? What the hell was he doing? And why was everyone looking at him like that?

"It's good, isn't it? I paid a lot for it. Not to worry, I didn't borrow from anyone this time."

The man spoke like a yakuza. Kenji was revolted. He didn't want his mother to have to deal with such a man. Once again he reached for his sword and cursed himself for having left it in his room. He eyes the sakabato that lay on its stand next to his father's picture. As if sensing the turmoil in her son's heart, Kaoru got up with Tae's help.

"Thank you Sano. I'm sure he enjoyed it."

The man looked their way.

"Oh! Jo-chan! What's happening with you? Another diet? This one worked well!" joked the man.

Kenji was ready to jump at his throat when his mother's laughter stopped him dead in his tracks. It was a surprisingly strong laugh for a person in her condition. The man called Sano laughed, too, and little wrinkles formed at the corner of his eyes.

"Kenji doesn't recognize me. I could swear he was about to assault me," he said with a smirk.

Kaoru laughed again.

"Let's just say that he's very protective of his mother," she explained.

The man looked satisfied with the answer.

"Like father, like son."

Everyone laughed. All these people laughing were confusing Kenji. He was getting angrier with every second that passed.

"I am nothing like my father!" he suddenly yelled.

In the silence that followed, the only thing that could be heard was Kenji's heavy breathing.

Sano got up and got closer to the boy, towering him.

"Don't be silly, you look just like your father must have looked at your age. You move like him and you talk like him."

"I'm pretty sure Kenshin was calmer," protested Kaoru. Everyone laughed anew, only enraging Kenji further. Without thinking, he reached for his father's sword and unsheathed it. The blade gleamed with the trembling light of the candles. The boy pointed his word at Sanosuke.

"I am nothing like him. I may look like him, but this is my curse."

For a moment, he looked like he was going to attack the tall man. Suddenly, he dashed to his father's picture and with a swift movement, he broke the frame. Glass shards flew everywhere. Kaoru screamed, but Kenji wasn't done.

"Who is this man? Who is he? You all seem to know but I don't! He's a stranger. A stranger!"

With his feet, Kenji kicked his father's picture. Tae and Tsubame screamed in horror.

"What is this circus? Are you playing a game on me? Was this all to bring me back to Tokyo?"

Kenji was hysteric. He waved the sword around, breaking things randomly. Kaoru had fallen to her knees and was crying helplessly in Tae's arms. Tsubame was crying, hiding her face behind her hands. Sanosuke and Yahiko looked at the boy, waiting for an opening. Megumi just stared at Kenji, her face expressionless.

Kenji wasn't conscious of what he was doing until the sakabato caught in a wooden pillar and wouldn't come out. He pulled and pulled but the damned sword would not budge. Giving up, he looked around and started to trash whatever he could with his hands and feet. He kept on howling.

Sanosuke and Yahiko were about to make a move when a voice coming from behind stopped them.

"I thought this was a funeral. I guess I was mistaken."

Everyone, including Kenji, turned around to look at the newcomer.

A police officer smoking a cigarette looked at Kenji with great interest.

"Interesting. Himura's son, I presume? He looks just like him. Just like a killer."


	4. Chapter 4

**_Chapter 4_**

 ** _Darkness meets light_**

Everyone stood still as the man walked in. Each of his boot clad footsteps resounded in the now empty dojo. In the shadows, the burning embers of his cigarette lit his face at irregular intervals. Kenji stood petrified by the policeman's gaze. His thin eyes weren't those of an agent of the law. They shone. They were like the eyes of a wild beast. A wolf's eyes.

The man kept getting closer. Kenji started trembling. An irrational thought sprung in his mind: I am going to die. The police officer finally stopped a few centimetres away from the boy. With his gloved hand, he grabbed his chin and lifted his head. Kenji didn't even think to protest.

"Yes. Himura's son. You look exactly like he did. Actually, if it weren't for your perfectly smooth left cheek, I would believe I was back in the bakumatsu."

Kenji looked deeper into the man's eyes. Darkness.

"Oh but I must say you have your mother's gaze. Your eyes, they're soft. I guess I was mistaken. You're not a killer after all."

But _you_ are.

Suddenly losing interest, the policeman let go of Kenji and walked towards the wooden pillar into which Kenshin's sword was still embedded. Slowly, he grabbed the hilt of the weapon and with a sharp jerk, he pulled it out. He then looked at the sakabato, hefting it appreciatively. He seemed pleased with the craftsmanship. Then, still holding the sword with his right hand, he held up his left hand and touched the wood, tracing the newly cut line with the tip of his fingers. Then, he lifted his hand and traced another line that had been there much longer. He turned around and faced Kenji.

"I made this dent. I fought your father. I brought out the killer in him."

Kenji looked at the man in complete incomprehension. What was he talking about?

The boy did not get much more time to think for his mother walked up to the policeman.

"Saito-san, thank you for coming. Let's not bring up these old memories. There are certain things I wish to leave in the past, and so did Kenshin." Saying so, she took her husband's sword from his hand and passed it to Megumi who sheathed it.

Saito nodded, as if to apologize. Then, he seemed to remember something.

"Kawaji sent me to tell you that he will send a carriage for you tomorrow. His ashes are ready?"

Kaoru nodded.

"Please thank Kawaji-san for his help. I wish I could walk to the temple but as you know I don't have much longer left."

As if to prove her point, she started coughing badly. When the fit was over, she bowed at the policeman. In front of her, drops of blood fell on the shiny wooden floor. Saito did not seem to notice and bowed back. He then turned around and looked at Sanosuke and Yahiko as if he was seeing them for the first time.

"Chicken boy, what happened to you? You look like you went to hell and back."

Sanosuke gave the man a rueful smile.

"And you, you look just the same. Greetings to your wife!" he finished, with a little smirk.

The police officer flinched ever so slightly and walked away, waving his hand in goodbye. Everyone remained still until he was out of sight. Then, as if on cue, everyone started talking at the same time. Tsubame ran to Yahiko, Sanosuke walked to Megumi and Tae tried to make Kaoru sit. As for Kenji, he stood trembling in front of his father's desecrated altar.

Kaoru freed herself from Tae and walked steadily to her soon. She then stopped in front of him. He lowered his eyes, ashamed of what he had done but his mother forced him to look at her. Her eyes were fierce and her voice strong when she spoke to him.

"I have known of your feeling for your fathers for years. I have never forced you to understand him. I have never told you of the pain you've caused him. Of the hurt. I thought things would get better. That you would one day understand his reasons. I thought you were now a grown man but I was wrong. You're nothing but a child and you have shamed yourself and your family tonight. Get a hold of yourself. You're not the only person to have suffered in this world."

And then, for the first time, Kenji felt his mother's strength as she dealt him a blow. The boy instinctively covered his face with his hands and looked at Kaoru with pain and surprise. He did not have time to react much more for the woman suddenly collapsed at his feet in a severe coughing fit.

"OKAAAAAAAAN!"

. . .

Kenji sat by his mother's futon, holding her hand his his. Next to him, Megumi drowsed. Outside the walls, he heard the night watch call the midnight. After Kaoru had collapsed, Yahiko and Sanosuke had rushed her to bed. Megumi had done everything in her power to alleviate the dying woman's pain but she hadn't been able to do much. Tae and Tsubame had helped as much as they could but hadn't been able to do much more than Megumi. Kenji had followed them around a the house, useless.

When Kaoru's body had finally calmed down, her mind had started to wander. She had had long conversations with her husband, most of which had been incomprehensible. From time to time, she had called his name and they had known that she was still far gone. She had finally fallen asleep an hour prior, to everyone's relief. Although everyone had tried to send him to bed, Kenji had insisted on keeping watch on his mother. Megumi had taken his side and everyone had had to comply with her.

Now that everyone was asleep, Kenji could finally start thinking about what had happened. He wasn't proud of how he had snapped in front of everyone. He felt ashamed and guilty. But mostly, he couldn't forgive himself for paining his mother so. He knew now that his behaviour had nothing to do with her current state and that had he behaved, she wouldn't have been in a better health. Yet, he could have spared her the grief of seeing her son despising the man she had and still loved so much. Not that he forgave his dad, but he had come to the realisation that his mother loved him deeply. It was unfortunately too late to make amends.

Kenji then started thinking about the strange policeman called Saito. Everyone had seemed to know him and yet, Kenji had never heard of him or even seen him. The things he said had troubled him. He had said his father had been a killer. Well, no. He had said he had brought out the killer in his dad. What had he meant by that? Kenji knew that his father had been involved in the bakumatsu, but how, he didn't know. He had never been able to ask his father about that dark era and he had somewhat felt that the subject was taboo. Anyway, how could anyone kill with a reversed blade? And yet, his mother had clearly said that she wished to keep certain memories in the past. Had his father been a killer? Now that he thought about it, some old people had looked at him strangely in Kyoto. He had heard the word "battousai" a few times, too.

Kenji jumped when he felt his mother's hand move in his. He looked down at her and saw that she was gazing softly at him.

"Kenji, forgive me," she whispered, tears rolling on her temples.

The boy squeezed her hand.

"Okan, don't be sorry. I am the one who should be sorry. I've caused you so much pain."

Kaoru shook her head.

"Okan... You know that your father was from Kansai? You call me okan because of him. The first time you said it it felt so strange. I had thought you would call me ka-chan, or oka-san or even mama, but no; you called me okan."

She smiled.

"Kenji there are many things I wish I could have told you. There are many things I wish he could have told you. And now, I wonder if you would not have loved him more if he had spoken openly to you."

Kenji held back his tears. She was slowing slipping away from him, he could feel it.

"Kenji. I love you. You've always made me proud. I've loved you from the moment I lay my eyes on you. Kenshin, your father, he loved you, too. I know you find it hard to believe, but he loved you more than anything else in the world. He loved you more than he even loved me."

Tears flowed freely on Kenji's cheeks. He didn't want to hear these things. They hurt him.

"I know the others won't speak; he has made them swear but I hope that one day you'll be able to know the man that was your father."

"Okan..."

Kaoru gave her son a genuine smile.

"I know. I know. I will not make you change your mind. You are stubborn, just like me. Kenji, did I tell you that I love you. My mind is such a mess lately. It's like there is mist in my head. I love you my son. Now let me sleep."

Kaoru closed her eyes, her hand still in her son's and fell asleep. Kenji wiped his eyes with his sleeve and resumed his watch.

In the early morning, when darkness meets the light in a colourful tapestry in the sky, Kaoru opened her eyes to take one last look at the world. As she took her last breath, it seemed to her that she could hear Kenshin's voice calling her name.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

 _ **Locked away**_

The sun was at its zenith in a clear blue sky. The cicadas were singing in the shadows of the trees. There wasn't the slightest breeze to cool down the scorching earth. Kenji was lying on his back on the wooden floor of the souko, naked but for his loin cloth. With its earthen wall, the place was the coolest of the entire house. True it ranked of dust but at least the place was dark and quiet. The closed doors muffled the sound of his "family" busily cleaning up the house.

Seven days. It had been seven days since she had died. Unexpectedly, Kenji had not felt violent emotions. Sadness had brushed him, yes, and he had spilled a few tears, but not the torrents he had expected. He had been relieved. At last, this chapter of his life was over. Not that he did not still resent his father, on the contrary, but with both of his parents dead, he felt like he had really become a man.

Kenji had overseen everything concerning his mother's funeral and her succession. He had approved the transfer of the dojo to Yahiko. He had taken care of every detail. Even though he had known nothing of the procedures, he had acted like the head of the family, which he was now. Anyway, Yahiko had been too devastated to be entrusted anything. Then again, everyone had seemed greatly affected by his mother's passing, maybe more than they had seemed by his father's death. Maybe it had been the shock of losing them one after another. Then again, Kenji had been absent had the moment of his father's death, so he had not been able to see everyone's reaction.

Kenji sighed and turned on his side. As he did, he felt a flash of numb pain when his sweaty back was pulled away from the floor. He stretched his right hand, trying to blindly reach the painful skin but hit something in the cramped space. An avalanche of documents, dust, and scrolls crashed loudly on top of him. The young man immediately sat up, instinctively protecting his head. After a short moment, the peace and quiet returned, leaving Kenji coughing and sneezing. Swearing, he got up and looked about. Better clean this up, he thought between two sneeze.

He sighed and crouched, gingerly touching this and that, not too sure where to start. He grabbed a scroll and untied the string to look at it. Nothing but an old Chinese ink panting. He rolled it up again and put it away with other scrolls. Then he started to pile up the numerous documents in a neat pile. He looked distractedly at them; most were old newspaper clippings or old legal documents pertaining to the dojo. One of the clippings mentioned the murder of Prime Minister Okubo, another, from Kyoto, the destruction of an important mountain complex. To the boy, it just looked totally random. He stopped cleaning for a moment, thinking that he should just burn most of these things.

Piling up the scrolls on top of the documents, he was about to put them back on top of the crate they had been on when he noticed a strange box behind it. Setting the papers on a chest nearby, he crouched to look at his new discovery. He pushed the crate aside. The box was made of pale wood and was lacquered, although it was unlike any Japanese lacquered good he had ever seen. It was more sturdy and bulky than its Nipponese counterparts. It definitely looked foreign. Kenji blew on the cover to discover a faded flower motif. Cautiously, he pulled the box towards him, awaiting another avalanche. Nothing happened.

He ran his fingers on the soft surface, trying to find a way to open it He could see hinges on his side of the box but no matter how he pulled, the cover didn't bulge. Leaning over it, he finally discovered a lock. Luckily, the key was in. Slowly, he rotated the chest, cringing at the idea that this massive thing was making deep scratches in the wooden floor. If Tsubame found out, she would strangle him.

Kenji pulled out the key. It was beautiful and delicately forged , definitely foreign. He insert it back in the keyhole and turned it. A muffled click was heard and the lid slightly moved upwards. The young man looked behind him then opened the chest, his heart beating fast.

He was utterly disappointed. It only contained more documents. Kenji had secretly been expecting gold coins, like in those foreign stories about pirates he had heard. He shuffled the contents around with no great interest and was about to close the lid when he saw something that caught his eyes: a picture. But not any picture. Even in the dimly lit souko, Kenji could tell that the person on the picture had fiery red hair. He stood up and walked closer to the only beam of sunshine that lit the souko through a high window.

The person on the picture looked just like his father. Yet, he could tell that it wasn't him. He had never seen Kenshin sport such a high ponytail plus the eyes were different. Softer and filled with joy. He looked closer and discovered that although she was wearing men's clothes the person was a woman. Trembling and unable to understand what this was all about, he flipped the pictured to see if there was an inscription on the back. Luckily there was.

 _To Mr Himura._

 _Thank you for visiting us today. It was a real pleasure to meet you. Do not be sad for you will always be in our hearts._

 _Ai_

 _18_ _th_ _year of Meiji_

Kenji was confused. Who was this Ai? A distant relative? No, it was impossible, for they had just met. Then who? Hoping to find more, Kenji started to empty the chest systematically. He found three more pictures. One was of another Japanese woman dressed in foreign clothes. She was about the same age as his father, judging by the date on the back of the picture. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite say why. The last picture was a whole lot older than the previous ones. It was pasted on a thick yellowed paper and appeared to have been ripped in half in the middle at one point. Two little kids were portrayed in what appeared to be shichigosan kimonos. The boy and the girl's resemblance was striking. Twins. Kenji picked up the first picture again. The tall woman and the little girl were indubitably the same person however there seemed to be something different. He couldn't quite say what. He scrutinized it closely but in the dark of the souko, it was hard to tell. Without even thinking about what he was about to do, he put back on his yukata and walked outside pictures in hand.

As soon as he stepped outside the heat hit him like a ton of bricks. He was about to turn heels and go back inside the souko when the person her had been avoiding spotted him.

"Kenji!"

Yahiko waved. The boy was tempted to pretend he hadn't heard him but decided not to. He was, after all, the man of the family now. He went down the three wooden steps that led to the souko and crossed the courtyard. Yahiko was but a shadow of what he had once been. He had lost so much weight that he seemed to be wearing clothes of a person twice his size. There were deep circles under his eyes and he always appeared to be on the verge of tears. Regardless, he kept trying to cheer everyone up and had an annoying fake smile plastered to his face. He had liked him better when he had spent his time crying and vomiting on the ship.

"Kenji, this just arrived."

He handed him a letter. It was stamped with the seal of the police department.

"I thought it was another letter of condolences so I opened it. I'm sorry."

Kenji unfolded the thick paper and read the succinct message.

 _Himura Kenji,_

 _Come to the Asakusa police station. I have something of your father's to give you._

 _Fujita Goro_

Kenji was astonished that the rudeness of the message. It was written in casual language and followed none of the established rules. Who was this man and what made him think he could address him in such a manner.

"The cheek of this man! If that Fujita believes I can be summoned like a manservant, he's wrong!"

Before Yahiko had time to respond Kenji's exclamation a low voice coming from behind them said:

"Baka. When this man calls, you go. Even your father knew that."

Kenji turned around to find himself face to face with that tall man called Sanosuke. Apparently, he'd met him in the past but couldn't remember. Even with his beard shaved and his hair trimmed he still looked like the scum he most likely was. That he had been his father's closest friend only made him worse in the young man's eyes. He glared at him.

"And what makes you think you can eavesdrop on private conversation."

A gleam of anger glowed in the man's eyes for a short moment before he shook his head and just started chuckling.

"You may look like him but on the inside you're just like your mother!"

Yahiko couldn't help but smile, for real for once. This only contributed to anger the Kenji furthermore. Seeing that, he put his hand on his arm.

"Kenji. Fujita Goro is Saito Hajime's rehabilitated name. He was one of the Shinsengumi Captains that…"

Before Yahiko could finish his sentence, Sanosuke cover his mouth with his huge hand.

"That knew your father. Now if I were you I would go. He's the man that came to Kenshin's funeral after you turned everything upside down."

Kenji felt a chill running up his back.

What did the wolf want with him?


	6. Chapter 6

**_Chapter 6_**

 ** _Pieces of you_**

Kenji stood in front of the gate of the Asakusa police station, letter in hand. Sanosuke bumped in him and almost toppled over. Kenji turned around and glared at him.

"Watch where you're going," he grunted.

The tall man ignored him and just walked past him making his way to the door nonchalantly. Kenji clenched his teeth. The more time he spent with that man the more he despised him. Not wanting to be left behind, he still hurried to catch up and walk slightly ahead of him. He could have sworn he heard Sanosuke snigger.

As soon as they stepped into the brick building, they were greeted by Kawaji who happened to be on his way to a crime scene. He bowed deeply and renewed his condolences to Kenji.

"A great man, if there ever was one, your father. It is a great loss for Japan. And your mother, a woman of such mental strength! I am very sorry for your loss. If I remember correctly..."

The police officer was interrupted by one of his colleagues calling him. He apologized and left them after telling them the way to Fujita's office. As they walked the long wooden corridors, Kenji pondered what the police officer had said. A great lost for Japan. Why was it always about the country? Had these people only thought of his father in terms of his contribution to the government? Without really knowing why, this upset him. They luckily reached the door of Fujita's office before he had time to swim in the troubled waters of his mind.

Getting himself ready to see face to face the man who had petrified him, Kenji took a deep breath. Unfortunately, Sanosuke was working a different agenda and swung the door open before the young man could even think of knocking. He sighed. That man was playing a dangerous game with his patience. After the funeral disaster, Kenji had decided that he would follow the established protocol in all matters. Sanosuke was not helping him reaching his goal one bit.

The wolf's den was surprisingly devoid of the personality of its occupant. The walls were bare except for a few maps of the city pinpointed with red needles. Two simple wooden chairs had been pushed against the wall to leave more space around the massive oak desk that sat in the center of the room. You could barely see Fujita's head over the piles of documents and reports. Kenji had expected to see the lugubrious shadow of a man sitting against the sun waiting for them in his mysterious den. He was surprised to see a man at work.

Fujita gave them an uninterested look and pointed the chairs without even uttering a word. Clearly, this man had no manners. Sanosuke and Kenji dragged the chairs in front of the desk and sat down. The older man stretched his arms and started to hum a tune as if he was enjoying a nice sunny day. The police officer didn't even seem to care. It seemed to Kenji that his parents' death had thrown him into a world inhabited by socially inept beings. He looked at Fujita and decided to wait nevertheless. There was something about him that just chilled him to the bones.

Finally, after what appeared to be an eternity, Fujita got up and pinched the bridge of his nose before cracking his neck.

"You wouldn't know anything about that new gang?" he asked offhandedly.

Sanosuke raised an eyebrow.

"You mean the one hanging around Ochanomizu?"

"Yes. We sent a mole but we haven't heard from him in ages. He's probably dead by now. Their leaders remain a mystery..."

Sanosuke and Fujita started to discuss the street gang, the yakuza looking man helping the murderer looking cop. What the hell was going on? Kenji clenched his fists, trying to contain the hanger he felt building in his chest. He had to remain civil... Suddenly, he stood up, his chair toppling over in a loud crash. Both men turned to look at him as if noticing him for the first time.

"Excuse-me, I do not mean to interrupt but I believe you have something to give me."

The dryness of his voice made Fujita raise an eyebrow.

"I see you do have a little of your father in you after all. Always straight to the point. However, he was better at hiding his anger."

His smirk enraged Kenji who fought even harder to contain his anger.

"Please, sir. May I have what I came here for?"

Seeing the efforts the boy was making, Fujita suddenly became serious. Without a word, he walked to his desk and opened the lowest drawer. When he straightened up, he was holding a parcel wrapped in brown paper and about the size of a hanshi. He held it out to Kenji over his desk. Slowly, the young man raised his right arm and grabbed it. He was surprised at the heaviness of the object when the police officer let go and had to use his other hand to avoid dropping it. Before he even spoke, the man interrupted him.

"Don't bother asking me what's inside; I have no idea"

Kenji looked at the man in the eyes.

"The only thing I can tell you is that he brought me that book last year before he left for China and told me to give it to you when both he and your mother had passed away. I must say I didn't expect to pass it on to you so soon."

He leaned on his desk. Kenji took a step forward.

"Don't even think about it. I'm not telling you how your father and I are connected."

Kenji bit his lower lip. The man was reading him like an open book.

"Let me just tell you this: we walked different paths but had a lot in common. Now leave, I have work to do. Chicken boy, I may call on you in the next few days; you're still staying at that dojo?"

Sanosuke nodded and they both took their leave from the wolf. He went back to his work and totally ignored them from that point on.

Once outside the precinct, Kenji ripped the paper to see what his father had gone to such extent to give him. The heirloom was in fact a book the size of a ledger. The binding was made of dark brown leather and the cover and back lined with thick green fabric. It didn't really look Japanese. In fact it looked quite foreign and it reminded Kenji of that chest he had found in the souko. Maybe he would find something in there to explain the pictures. Withtout waiting any longer, he opened it.

Sanosuke whisled, impressed.

"We're going to have a hard time deciphering this!"

Kenji jumped. He had forgotten about the tall man. He looked at the book. The pages were covered in very fine characters. Foreign characters. Kenji sighed loudly, feeling the frustration well inside him again. He turned to face Sanosuke.

"First of all who said there was a _we_? This has nothing to do with you. Second, this must be some kind of sick joke my father is playing on me from the grave."

Closing the book shut with a loud snap, he started to walk home and a furious pace. Sanosuke, undeterred by the youngling's imprecations, hurried to his side.

"You know sometimes you remind me of Kenshin, but like one of these deformed mirrors I've seen once in China. You act like your father would, but for the wrong reasons."

Kenji decided to ignore the man. He was sick and tired of being told he looked or acted like his father. However Sanosuke wasn't done and his long legs helped him keep a steady pace.

"Too bad there can be no we. Coz I could tell you where to go to have this thing translated."

Kenji stopped dead in his tracks. Sanosuked grinned.

The two men stood in front of the gate of the Netherlands embassy. The two armed guards were looking at them suspiciously.

"Are you sure this is… Dutch?"

"Affirmative. Yutaro taught me a bit a few years ago in Hong Kong."

Kenji, not trusting Sanosuke one bit, didn't even bother asking who was Yutaro and, opening the book at a random page, decidedly walked towards one of the guards.

"Excuse-me, sir, could you tell if this is Dutch?"

The guard didn't flinch and remained straight as a stick. Kenji tried addressing him again but to no avail. He was about to give up when the sound of a carriage approaching made him turn around. A four horse drawn black coach was making its way toward the closed gate. When it stopped, Kenji was surprise the see the occupant poke its blond head out the window.

"Himura-kun?"

Kenji looked around while the blond man's female secretary poured them tea. He had never been in a room so richly decorated. The walls were covered with flowery white, green and pink wallpaper which contrasted a lot with the dark oak of the panelling. The wooden floors were covered with huge thick rugs and Kenji would've definitely liked to lie down on them for a little nap. As for the furniture, it was the first time he was sitting on an upholstered recamier. The table in front of him was also fascinating. There were so many details carved into it. Finally, the fine porcelain cup he was about to drink from was also a marvellous piece of art. He had never seen anything like it.

The blond man smiled at the boy's interest and even more at Sanosuke's visible discomfort at being in such refined surroundings. He took a sip of tea then cleared his throat. Kenji and Sanosuke both looked at him.

"Himura-kun, I am sure you've been told this countless times but I want to tell you that I am very sorry for your loss."

Not sure how to react, Kenji looked down at his cup.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

Sanosuke chose this moment to drop his cup on the saucer. Kenji jumped and the blond man laughed. The tall man apologized and tried to clean up his mess, only making it worse.

"You are too nervous my friends. Sagara-kun, Himura-kun, please relax and enjoy yourselves."

Kenji looked up at this strange gaijin who spoke perfect Japanese.

"I'm sorry sir but although you know our names I don't have the pleasure of knowing yours."

The man laughed again.

"Please forgive me. I am Petyr Van Dyke. I am the embassador of the Netherlands in Japan. I have known both your parents for many years, and I believe we have met once or twice, Sagara-kun."

The tall man didn't seem to remember and shrugged. Van Dyke laughed again then his face darkened.

"Now let me not waste more of your time. This book you have here is written in Dutch, I confirm it. You father told me that one day you would come to me with something of his and that when you did, I should give you this."

The Dutch man gestured to a majordomo who handed him a small envelope. He put it down on the table and pushed it towards Kenji. The young man delicately took it between his fingers. This, too, was of foreign origin. The paper was yellowed and dry. He looked at Van Dyke, as if asking if he could open in. The older man nodded.

Slowly, he ripped it open from the side and tipped it to the side. A golden locket fell out in the palm of his hand. Putting down the envelope, he took a good look at the small object. It was carved with many minute patterns. There was a minuscule hinge at one side. Kenji tried to open it but failed. Sanosuke, who had been following the whole thing, tried to grab the locket from the boy's hand but Kenji turned his back on him. Finally, he managed to slip his thumbnail between the two sides and opened it. The secret the locket revealed to him was quite disturbing. It was a miniature of two red headed children. The rendition was perfect and troubling. These two little children looked just like the ones he had seen in the picture in the souko. Suddenly remembering something, he searched the folds of his obi and took out the old picture. He then put both on the table, next to one another.

There was no doubt about it. These were the same children.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7**_

 _ **You knew me once**_

Van Dyke picked up the picture. He looked at it for a moment. The shadow of a smile crossed his face. He carefully placed it back down on the desk. Kenji stared at him, hoping for an explanation. Sanosuke clumsily put down his cup and saucer and grabbed both items. He inspected them.

"Who are those kids?" the man asked.

The ambassador opened his hands.

"I'm afraid I have no idea."

"Is that so..." Sanosuke raised an eyebrow and gave Kenji a sidelong glance. The boy ignored him and scooted forward on his seat.

"What about the book then, what's in it?"

The foreigner thumbed the book open and flipped a few of the pages.

"It is a bible. A protestant bible. A beautiful art piece to be entirely honest. It appears to have been handwritten; most likely a private comission. I have never seen one so big. It is probably worth a lot."

His fingers lovingly lingered on the pages before he closed the book. He handed it back to Kenji. At the same moment, a soft knock on the door was heard. A young man with blonde hair said something in Dutch. The ambassador replied in kind. He then turned to his guests.

"I'm afraid my next appointment is here, gentlemen. Once again, please accept my sincere condolences. Jan will see you out. Please come and visit again."

"That old geezer was definitely lying," said Sanosuke.

Kenji nodded. The pair walked along the canal, halfway home. From afar, even an informed eye might have mistaken the son for the father and thought the old duo reunited.

"The real question is why," added Kenji.

Sanosuke crossed his arms behind his head.

"Same reason none of us will tell you anything, I suppose. Your father told him not to."

The young man stopped. He clenched his fist around the medallion. He had half a mind to throw it in the water along with the book. This posthumous game of charades infuriated him. He closed his eyes, trying to calm the familiar anger that had erupted. He listened to the cicada's deafening song. Although he'd been back for a while now he hadn't really paid attention to the insects' high-pitch chirp. Somehow, they sounded different from the ones in Kyoto.

"Quiet and serene

The sound of a cicada

Seeps into the rock."

Kenji opened his eyes. Sanosuke leaned on one of the ancient trees lining the road.

"Matsuo Basho," said Kenji. "I didn't think you were the kind of man to recite haikus."

Sanosuke pinched his lips. His eyebrows came together for a split second.

"You really don't remember me, do you?"

The heaviness of his voice made Kenji's heart sink. The man annoyed him without end, yet he felt guilty.

"I'm sorry."

Sanosuke gave him a weak smile.

"I was your favourite. Once you got used to me, that is. At first, you were terrified. Then you realised that sitting on my shoulders was way more fun than sitting on your father's. I instantly became your new best friend."

"And the haiku?" asked Kenji, trying his hardest to remember.

"You must have been five. Megumi and I played endless games of Uta garuta with you. I was horrible at it, but you, you were amazing. Soon you'd memorised all the poems. Megumi had to make new cards for you. I volunteered that cicada haiku. It was my sister's favourite. The only one I knew."

Night came but brought no relief from the oppressive heat. Crickets, taking over where the cicadas had left, chirped their evening duo with the frogs of the canal. Kenji lay on his back on the veranda. Even stripped down to his fundoshi, he still felt like he was melting. He daren't imagine how much worse Kyoto would have been. His mind wandered, stopping on a thought only to immediately jump to another. After a while, he'd take the reins and try to backtrack to the original thought. After a while, he realised that his mind kept returning to Sanosuke's haiku and the game of Uta garuta. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recall any of it. Yet, something tugged at him. He experienced a slight feeling of discomfort in his stomach every time he wracked in brain to remember. He sat up. He needed to get his mind off this dead end.

Kenji lazily leaned backwards and scooted to grab the bible he'd dropped on the tatami of his room. His fingertips brushed the velvet but gave him no purchase. He inched closer and closed his hand on the spine of the book. He lifted it but the weight proved to heavy for his twisted arm and so he dropped the object halfway to its destination. The shock combined with the heft tore part of pastedown off the cover. Kenji cringed. He grabbed the book with two hands and assessed the damage. Closer inspection revealed that only the back had come undone and that the paper hadn't torn. A bit of glue and it would be as good as new. Better leave it be for the moment. He couldn't remember why he's wanted to look at it anyway. As he set the book down, he noticed something small sticking out of the tail. He place the volume on his lap and turned the pages; he feared he might do more damage if he simply pulled. He soon found the foreign object's location. It appeared to have been inserted between two leaves which were still partially stuck together. He gingerly pushed the card along the opening, hoping to widen it without tearing anything. After a few attempts, the pages came apart. A flattened dry bellflower had pasted the leaves together. He looked at the small card. In the moonlight, he tried to read the faded handwriting.

"Quiet and serene

The sound of …"

He frowned. That was… His eyes widened. He reeled. His heart beat audibly. The ball of discomfort in his stomach expanded.

 _Kenji trotted in the courtyard. Sano oji-chan was here. He squealed with excitement as he climbed the stairs to the bedroom. His sandals flew off his feet just before he ran into the room. He pushed the door of the oshi-ire open and grabbed an old lacquered box. He peered inside; the cards were ready to be played. He shuffled a few around and found the pair he was looking for. Sanosuke oji-chan would be so happy! He closed the box and rushed outside. He slipped his sandals back on and ran. On the way to the main room, he only stopped once to collect a few bellflowers. Sanosuke's presence usually meant Megumi wasn't too far. He'd almost reached his destination when he heard what sounded like an argument. He slowed to a stop. His father sometimes fought with his mother, but she was currently out and usually, she did the yelling._

" _You can't be serious, Kenshin. The boy deserves to know!" Anger permeated Sanosuke's voice._

 _His father must have replied something, but he could not hear it, no matter how he strained his ears._

" _If you won't, then I will. You're not making any sense!"_

" _You swore, Sano. I will not have you interfere with the upbringing of my son."_

 _Kenji shook. He'd never heard his father raise his voice before._

" _Fine then. Do as you wish. Mess that kid's head as much as you want. We all know how not knowing the truth worked so well for you in the end."_

 _The boy walked in the open just in time to see Sanosuke grab his pack and walk away._

" _Sanosuke oji-san!" he called, his voice trembling._

 _The man stopped for a second, bunched his fists, and made for the gate without looking back. Tears spilt out of Kenji's eyes. He dropped the box, which scattered its content all over the courtyard. In his extended hand, he held out the hand-written karuta haiku and the flowers._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 **Missing pieces**

Kenji didn't sleep. He lay on the veranda, impatiently awaiting the sunrise. At some point, before dawn, the temperature dropped to a more merciful degree, making clothes bearable again. With the first rays, the young man tiptoed to his parents' bedroom, the last known location of the Uta garuta lacquered box. As quietly as possible he opened the oshi-ire and started his meticulous search. If he was completely honest, the box wasn't the only thing he wished to find. First, he removed the bedding. It had been cleaned after his mother's passing; there wasn't any chance it would yield anything. That out of the way, he inspected every inch of the space, using his fingers to make sure nothing stuck to the wall or the shelf. He then moved on to the kimono cabinet. He methodically emptied each drawer, taking his mother's kimonos out of the rice paper, checking for anything unusual. Remnants of her perfume wafted to his nose and he had to force himself to focus on the task at hand lest he start hugging the delicate silk to his chest. The cabinet emptied, he took each drawer out; he scrutinised every surface. He then pulled the piece of furniture out of the storage area and investigated the space. He found nothing but dust. Undeterred, he painstakingly returned everything to its original location. He then moved on to the other side of the oshi-ire. The top shelf revealed more bedding and nothing else. The cabinet on that side proved to be even harder to go through. Each drawer contained a piece of clothing that had belonged to his father. He went through all the rice paper packages. The top ones contained the usual hakamashita, hakama, haori, yukata and the odd jimbei. Kenji had seen his father wear all of those. Just as his love for his mother had threatened to set him off track, so did his resentment for his father. Like his mother's kimonos had brought back her scent, so did his father's. The only difference was he hardly knew that scent. Kenji proceeded to the last drawer. He pulled out two paper wrapped garments. He stared in surprise when the first one revealed an old and faded hakamashita. Intrigued, he unwrapped the other bundle. Grey hakama in much the same state were revealed. He'd never seen those. He picked up the hakama, unfolding it. The frayed hem was even more discoloured. The fabric of the strings of the belt was threadbare. He moved closer to the door and in the morning light, he noticed a spatter of old stains. The kind of stain that had been washed over and over until it almost became one with the fabric. The hakamashita sported the same pattern; in both case, most of it concentrated on the front. He smelled the fabric. Nothing special aside from the mustiness of clothes long stored. Had his father worn these clothes during the bakumatsu? Were those stains what he thought they were?

He carefully folded the clothes and wrapped them, setting them aside with the thoughts that related to them. He probed the inside of the now empty chest and found nothing else of interest. Now to the last step: taking out the bulky piece of furniture out. His father's cabinet, older and heavier, gave him a bit more trouble. He was relieved by the knowledge that the tatami in the room was due to be replaced soon; this level of destruction would not go unnoticed. The furniture finally out of the way, Kenji inspected the empty space. He ran his fingers underneath the shelf and along the walls but found nothing. Then, at the very back, he spied a straight cut in the straw mat. He crouched and, careful not to bang his head, walked the small space of the oshi-ire. Once inside, he pulled on the sectioned piece of tatami. It came off easily but lifted a small cloud of dust that made Kenji sneeze and hit his head. He swore. In the space, he saw a small package wrapped in an oil cloth. Kenji took it and squeezed out of the confined space. Still coughing, he stepped outside and sat at the edge of the engawa. The fabric of the bundle had become brittle with age and the fibre all but disintegrated at the fold. The contents were wrapped in a yellowed washi. With gentle care, Kenji unfolded the paper. Nestled in all those protective layers, he found a piece of faded blue silk. He took it out and proceeded to unfold it on the wooden floor. The deep creases were fragile and yielded with difficulty. After a few layers, Kenji discovered a desiccated white plum bough. He dared not disturb it for fear that the flowers would fall off. In the light, he could see that the scarf or shawl also had a spatter of stains. However those were darker; no one had tried to remove them. This puzzled him. This was clearly a woman's garment and definitely not his mother's. The Kamiya weren't poor, but tsumugi silk was way out of their reach. How was it connected to his father's old clothes? Kenji sighed. All of this made little sense and fatigue had dampened his motivation. He folded then wrapped the scarf and placed it atop the two bundles protecting his father's unexplained accoutrement. He then attacked the daunting task of putting everything back where it belonged.

A long shadow fell on him, blocking the sun. Kenji rubbed his eyes, disoriented. He propped himself on his elbows. Seemed he'd fallen asleep in his parents' room. From the doorway, Yahiko stared at him.

"What happened here?"

Kenji glanced around. Apparently, he'd fallen asleep halfway through the cleaning process.

"I... I was looking for something."

"Oh." Yahiko's discomfort filled the room. The man still tiptoed around him whenever the subject of his parents (or anything even remotely related) came up. "Well, did you find it?"

Kenji shook his head.

"Ok. Well, I just wanted to let you know that I am leaving for the next few days to do the usual dojo rounds. But you should ask Tsubame about that thing you're looking for: she knows where everything is."

"Right. Thank you."

Yahiko lingered a little bit too long, swaying from one foot to the other, apparently unsure of what to do with himself.

"It's noon, by the way."

Having delivered this unrequested piece of information, he nodded and walked away awkwardly. Kenji exhaled, realising he'd been holding his breath. He resisted temptation to lay back down and resumed his tidying.

Kenji found Tsubame in the yard, picking up wood for the kitchen. He jogged up to her.

"Let me help you."

He took the logs from her. She rubbed her hand on the front of her apron then eyed him somewhat suspiciously. Without waiting for her, he made for the kitchen. She caught up.

"Yahiko told me you we going through your parents things."

Kenji couldn't help but smile. Straight to the point, as usual.

"I was."

"Anything specific you want?"

Her tone was uncharacteristically cold. He dropped the wood next to the kamado and turned to face her. Her arms were crossed on her chest.

"I could prefer it if you didn't poke your nose around. I know this is your house, but I can help you find anything you need."

For a split-second, he felt anger flare. It was immediately extinguished by the realisation that Tsubame wasn't trying to prevent him from finding what he wanted: she was annoyed that he was turning the house upside down. He couldn't help but laugh. She glared. He laughed some more, unable to stop. The woman, soon mollified by Kenji's burst of mirth, joined in.

"I'm sorry," she said as the hilarity subsided. "That was rather harsh."

He shook his head.

"Not at all. The room was quite a mess when Yahiko found me. I'm afraid I've destroyed the tatami."

She dismissed his last words with a wave of the hand.

"It's alright. So. What was it you were looking for?"

Without going into the details of the story behind it, Kenji gave a description of the lacquered box and of the game of Uta Garuta. Tsubame remembered the game, having herself played it with the young man, a long time ago.

"That would be in the souko, if we still have it. I was actually planning on cleaning up that dusty storage nightmare. From what I can tell, the weather should hold until the end of the day. Why don't you take everything out in the yard? We'll go through everything and get rid of what we don't want."

She looked at him eagerly, a cunning smirk on her face. He shook his head with a small laugh. Kenji had walked right into that trap. If Megumi was kitsune by name, Tsubame was the real thing.

Sitting in the middle of all their possessions, the two young people looked like dusty ghosts. Tsubame shook her head.

"So many things. It's quite incredible."

Kenji nodded.

"Was Yahiko in on it?" he asked

"What?" she asked.

He gave her a look. Tsubame smiled knowingly.

"Let's just say I planted the seed. I saw you asleep in that mess this morning. Yahiko unconsciously made sure you wouldn't get off scot-free. Thank you for helping me."

He blew her a raspberry. She laughed behind her hand.

"Why don't you take inventory of all this stuff. Put whatever you want to discard over there then I'll take a look at it, too. I'll scrub the floor in the meantime."

Kenji started with the bigger items. Three chests containing kendo paraphernalia, a few old (and useless) yari, one woven basket filled with rolled up scrolls and two wooden crates containing ceramics from another age were some of the more interesting items. The remainder was an assortment of various household implements and broken furniture. A mouldy futon also joined the latter in the rubbish pile. He set aside the foreign chest, intending to give it a more thorough look later. He also gathered the different clippings and broadsheets, piling them on top of the box. By the time Tsubame was done cleaning up, only a big steamer trunk was left. Kenji lifted the lid, hopeful for the object of his quest. The chest revealed bolts of very well preserved silk, mousseline and cotton. This got Tsubame's attention. She lifted a delicately embroidered blue silk.

"These are... There are incredible. How many bolts are there?"

He counted ten.

"This is worth a fortune. How did this even get here? I've never even seen this kind of silk or those patterns. Why was it hidden in there?"

Kenji shrugged. A quick glance had confirmed that none of the fabrics matched the ones from his morning discoveries. Moreover, something more exciting than the fine textile was to be found at the bottom of the drunk: the lacquered box. Without further ado, he lifted the lid. Atop the neatly arranged cards, sat a yellowed envelope.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9**_

 _ **The turning point**_

The souko had been reorganised and dinner had been eaten. Kenji had retreated back to his room, his mind on the letter he'd found in the lacquered box. He'd been quick to close the lid, keeping his discovery from Tsubame. All his secrecy had probably been superfluous as the young woman had been too smitten by the silks to pay him any attention. At this very moment, she sat in her and Yahiko's room, the steamer trunk's content scattered all around her, her mind full of potential designs and uses. Kenji pulled down the sudare then lit three candles he placed in lanterns he'd found in storage. He positioned them so most of the floor would be lit. He opened the box and stared at the letter. He wanted nothing more than to read it, but he also feared its content. He didn't know the address, only that it was in another part of town, somewhere near imperial palace. Yet his father was the addressee. The postage was definitely foreign; he'd never seen that red design with the profile of a woman. In view of his behavior the last time he'd felt such agitation, he decided to set the unopened letter aside for the moment. He took the cards from the box and placed the grabbing cards down on the mat. He picked the first reading card.

 _This is it! This place_

 _we come to and we go from_

Kenji searched the cards in front of him, the next three lines clear in his head. He soon found them.

 _in constant parting_

 _acquaintances and strangers_

 _at the gate of Meeting Hill_

He smiled. He still got it. Satisfied, he read the next card. For the best part of an hour, he played a solitary game of Uta garuta. With each card, memories of long gone rainy afternoons came back to him. He heard Yahiko and Sanosuke argue over who had found the card first – the wrong one, most of the time. He saw Megumi and Tsubame's focused faces, scanning the cards. He smelled his mother's perfume as she leaned forward to grab a card. He felt his father's strong arm as the man held him in his lap, reaching for cards Kenji pointed at. This last memory jolted him back to reality. He looked at the tatami in front of him. Only one card left, yet he didn't have anymore reading cards. He looked at the oshi-ire. He'd tucked away his morning find in it. He stood up, retrieved the card from the pages of the Dutch bible and sat back down.

 _Quiet and serene_

 _The sound of..._

He picked up the card off the floor.

 _...a cicada_

 _Seeps into the rock_

The one incongruent haiku in a collection of tankas. He remembered now. After witnessing his father's and Sanosuke's altercation, the grabbing card had gone missing, the haiku never to be played. He'd soon tired of the game and forgotten all about it. What bothered Kenji the most, however, was this jaring recollection of his father holding him. Was there any possibility that he had remembered wrong? And if this had really happened, had it been a special occasion or a common occurrence? Regardless, the memory had come with a warm feeling of joy. In that moment, he'd been happy. Anxiety weighed down on his stomach. His eyes fell on the letter. Did he really want to add to his confusion? He reached out for the envelope, his desire to know trumping everything else.

 _15 September, 1890_

 _Amsterdam_

 _Kenshin,_

 _Please forgive me for imposing this unrequested present on you. Ai was adamant in sharing these beautiful silks with you and your family. I hope you will not be burdened by it and that your wife will make good use of them. I thank you for your latest favor. I will reply properly very soon. In the meantime, I pray you will take good care of yourself. Do not allow the weight of the world to crush you._

 _Your devoted friend,_

 _Iribe Yumiko_

Kenji had never heard of such a person. Although this letter added more confusion, it also gave away a lot. This woman had known his father intimately enough not to use any suffixes after his name. She had also known about his mother. Most importantly, she was connected to that Ai of the pictures. He went to the oshi-ire and grabbed all his finds, both from his parent's room, the souko and other sources. He found Ai's picture in men's clothes and set it in front of him. Meiji year 18. Then, he took the letter and placed to the right. 1890, Meiji year 23. He moved on to the locket and paired it with the tattered picture; he set them to the left. Thus, taking one item after the other and placing it in front of him, he attempted to create a timeline of his father's life. He stood against the shoji and took it all the very left, his father's old clothes opened the tale; to the the extreme right, the letter closed it. In-between, newspaper clippings, broadsheets, the bible, a few pictures and the uta garuta haiku told disconnected parts of the story he could hardly piece together.

"Did you find all this today?"

Kenji started. He turned to see Tsubame's shadowy face through the sudare. He lifted it up, inviting her in. Pointing at the different items, he explained how and where he'd found them. The young woman sat in seiza next to Kenshin's old garments. Kenji joined her.

"I don't think I've seen Kenshin wear those. That blue scarf, I have never seen either."

Kenji's heart sank. He had hoped she would be able to explain them.

"There are weird stains on them. Like… Like blood."

She frowned and gestured towards the hakama. _May I?_ Kenji nodded. Gingerly, she unfolded the piece of clothing and moved closer to the lantern. She meticulously inspect the fabric. She turned to Kenji.

"Definitely blood. I've cleaned enough from Yahiko's clothes. These stains are old. Your father most likely wore them during the Bakumatsu."

Kenji held his breath. Would she reveal more? She folded the hakama yet left it in her lap. She stared at it for a moment, deep in thoughts. Her face puckered as if she was trying to solve a complex conundrum. Then, quite suddenly, she snapped to attention and turned to the young man anew.

"I swore to Kenshin, to your father, that I would never reveal anything of his past to you. He made all of us swear when you were about five. You had started asking candid questions about everything. Your father's scar especially fascinated you. So I promised. We all promised."

"Except Sanosuke."

She frowned, confused.

"The Basho haiku in the uta garuta game, it made me remember something." He told her what he had seen and heard.

"I see," she said, pensive. "It explains a lot. I had always suspected something had happened. Sanosuke left for China around that time without so much as a goodbye. We didn't see him for the best part of the last ten years. He and Kenshin had always been so close… This must have rattled both of them. Regardless, if Sanosuke didn't swear at that moment, he definitely did when he rescued your father shortly before he came back to Japan. But that doesn't matter now. What I want to say is that I don't think it's right. I think you have a right to know those things."

Kenji heart rate increased so much he feared she could hear it.

"You will tell me about my father?"

She nodded with resolve.

"You have to understand that I don't know much. Yahiko, who usually tells me everything, has remained uncharacteristically silent on the topic. Probably because he knew I would eventually tell you; my disagreement with this charade was always clear between us. Anyway, so here is what I can tell you. Kenshin fought on the Ishin Shishi's side during the civil war. This is why the Meiji government kept asking him for help. He was about your age when he joined. I don't know what his exact role was, but judging by those old clothes, it is safe to assume he killed people."

I brought out the killer in him. Kenji shuddered. The policeman hadn't been lying then.

"This shouldn't surprise you, Kenji. It was war: people killed each other daily."

Kenji shook his head.

"I'm not surprised. I just never really associated my father with the brutality of that period. But how? How could he kill anyone with a sakabato?"

"From what I gathered, he got the reversed blade after the civil war was over. He wanted to atone and help people without ever killing again. So your father roamed Japan and assisted people in need. He vagabonded for ten years until he ended up in Tokyo and met your mother."

"Ten years?" asked Kenji. His father's resourcefulness suddenly made so much more sense. He couldn't help but feel admiration.

"Yes. I'm not too clear on how your parents met. Seems he helped her restore the dojo's name. Yahiko doesn't have all the details either. What is clear is that once Kaoru had her hooks in Kenshin, she made sure he wouldn't get away. Although he almost did."

She pointed at the broadsheet on Okubo's assassination and told Kenji what she knew of the Kenshin-gumi's misadventures in Kyoto, closing the story with the clipping of the fire and destruction of a temple complex outside the old capital. The young man was entranced by the story. The behaviors of his relatives and friends clashed with what he knew of them. He also had newfound respect for Yahiko.

"I don't understand why he wouldn't want me to know all this," he couldn't dissimulate the pain in his voice.

Tsubame looked down at the hakama in her lap, then turned to Kenji.

"Think about it, Kenji. Now that you know a little, what is it you want?"

He didn't need to think about it.

"I want to know more, of course."

She returned Kenshin's old garment to its protective paper.

"Exactly. Your father was a man of a few words. He only ever shared information about himself when the situation called for it. Obviously there were things he didn't want anyone to know." She looked at the foreign objects. "And judging by that letter, he even kept things from your mother."

"But why?"

She shrugged.

"Because whatever it was, it hurt too much, I suppose. Because he wanted you to have a life free of the burdens of war."

They both sat quietly for a moment, lost in thoughts. Tsubame reached across Kenji and picked up the letter. She flipped the envelope. There was a clear return address to the Netherlands.

"Now if I were you, I would write to that Iribe Yumiko. No one sends over a thousand yens' worth of silks to a complete stranger. And no one hides such riches without a good reason. This woman might have answers none of us could give you."

 **NOTE**

The title of this chapter, **The turning point** , refers to the third line of a tanka, also called pivot. This line is used to join the two different parts of the story a poem tells. For example, in Kenji's game of uta garuta, the tanka reads:

 _This is it! This place_

 _we come to and we go from_

 _in constant parting_

 _acquaintances and strangers_

 _at the gate of Meeting Hill_

Both

 _This is it! This place_

 _we come to and we go from_

 _in constant parting_

and

 _in constant parting_

 _acquaintances and strangers_

 _at the gate of Meeting Hill_

make sense on their own, but together they tell a bigger story. In the context of Kenji's life, Yumiko's letter is the pivot.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10**_

 _ **And then there were two**_

The heavy air weighed the city down and the sun conspired with the shaved ice vendors to make their fortune. Standing under the awning of the post office, Kenji wiped his face with his handkerchief. He spied a few stray dogs sprawled down in the shadows of an alley. He envied them. If only going around in only a fundoshi were still legal. He tucked the handkerchief back in the sleeve of his yukata and pulled out an envelope. Following Tsubame's advice, he had sent a letter to Iribe Yumiko. Not well versed in the epistolary art, he'd kept it simple. He'd introduced himself and announced both his parents' deaths. He had ended the missive by asking if the woman could tell him more of her relationship to his father and to the girl named Ai. He had also included a picture of himself, that he had had taken following the decision to send the letter. He hoped he hadn't been to blunt and that they wouldn't take offense. He had no idea how long it would take for the letter to get there; it would surely be a few months. For now, however, he had something else to occupy himself with. He crossed the street.

It took him almost and hour to reach the army training ground at Hibiya. He took refuge in the shade of a tree. His yukata stuck to his back, his hair was plastered on his forehead, and his geta's straps bit the skin between his toes. For a while, he observed the soldiers maneuvering in full gear, no doubt roasting alive under the sun. What had it been like for his father? Had he fought in the sweltering Kyoto summer? He had found himself thinking more about Kenshin. Finding information about him ran contrary to his father's wishes, and that pleased Kenji.

A cicada started to chirp next to him. He looked away from the field to find it. He started.

"Kuso!" blurted Kenji. He bent forward, put his hand on his thighs and exhaled loudly..

A mere pace away stood Sanosuke. He grinned, pleased with himself.

"You were miles away there, kozo."

The young man rolled his eyes, irked. He fanned himself with the envelope.

"You're the one who was miles away. Literally. We haven't seen you for over a week. Where were you?"

Sanosuke shrugged.

"Oh you know. Here and there. Keeping busy. I'm touched you were worried."

"I wasn't worr…"

"What are we up to?" interrupted Sanosuke.

Without warning, he snatched the piece of paper from Kenji's hand. Kenji tried to take it back but Sanosuke's height meant defeat. The tall man frowned.

"Where is that? And why is it addressed to Kenshin?"

Kenji jumped and reclaimed the envelope. Sanosuke's sweaty fingers had smudged the ink.

"I don't know. That's what I wanted to find out but now you've made it barely legible."

"Don't worry. It's all in here." He tapped the side of head with two fingers and winked. Kenji shuddered.

xxxx

"Erh… Well, that's that," said Sanosuke.

"Ummm" replied Kenji.

The pair stood in front of the burnt remains of what appeared to have been an old but stately house. A few calcined pillars still stood up, but a pile of charred wood and black ashes occupied most of what had once been someone's home. The walls of the neighbouring building still wore scorch marks. The roof of the residence on the right had been torn down to avoid propagation and was still being replaced. Sanosuke called out to one of the builders.

"Excuse me! Sorry to interrupt your work. Could you tell me who lived here?"

Kenji sniggered. He's never heard Sanosuke being so polite. The worker wiped his forehead with his forearm and squinted at the two men below.

"Hidaka Shunso Seinsei's house, t'was, sir. Burned down maybe…"

He turned around to face his colleagues. The group debated in a thick accent that made it clear they weren't from Tokyo. Kenji could barely follow. The first worker finally turned back to Sanosuke and Kenji.

"Maybe two months ago." He sniffed, wiping his face again. "Try the Daishin'in, that's where they be, the law kind."

xxxx

The Supreme Court of Judicature, with its shiny bronze roof and bright red bricks dwarfed the entire neighbourhood with Victorian grandeur. Men in both Japanese and European clothing came and went through the gates, some carrying heavy ledgers with urgency, others smoking leisurely. Sanosuke and Kenji joined in with the bustling crowd and made their way across the lawn to a series of arches. Kenji craned his neck, trying to take all the novelty in. Sanosuke observed him with amusement while making sure the youngster didn't bump into anyone. As soon as they stepped in the main hall, the temperature dropped a few degrees, bringing the duo some relief. Kenji gawked at the dark woodwork, the coffered ceiling, and the oil paintings. He'd been impressed by the police precinct at Kajibashi before, but its simplicity was no match for this. He bumped into Sanosuke.

"You'll break your neck if you don't stop."

Kenji scratched the back of his head.

"It's just so… grandiose," he said. He wiped his face with his handkerchief.

Sanosuke gave the place a cursory look and sniffed.

"A waste of money, if you want my opinion. Anyway, let's go. I know where to find our man."

"How?"

Sanosuke pointed at a reception desk. A young Japanese woman in foreign garb smiled at him and gave him a shy wave.

"We can't both be drooling; one of us has to be useful."

A two flights of stairs and a few corridors later, the men found themselves in a remote corner of the building. The door of Hidaka Shunso's office was ajar, revealing a wiry man in his last fifties asleep behind a desk. Sanosuke knocked. The man jumped awake and readjusted his clothes.

"Come in."

Kenji pushed the door open and walked into the stuffy office followed by Sanosuke. The claustrophobic space could barely contain the desk and two shelving units. On the floor, scattered documents, ledgers and discarded paper made it a challenge to stand anywhere.

"Hidaka-sensei?" asked Kenji.

"The man himself. And you must be Himura-kun's son."

The young man stared agape. He managed a nod.

"You knew my father?" he stammered

"Afraid so. And no good it did me, I tell you!"

Kenji froze, unsure of how to react. He felt Sanosuke flinch next him. The old man looked at them, a twinkle in his eyes. He then broke in a wide grin and bellowed a loud laugh, making his bushy eyebrows wiggle up and down.

"I jest, I jest. I did know your father. Please excuse the mess. I would invite you to sit but as you can see, there is no space. I've been holed up in here since that damn bolt of lightning struck my house. A curse and a blessing it was, I dare say. With my daughter married off and my wife dead, the place was rather empty. I didn't dare sell it, what with the family tradition and all, but now it's just a worthless pile of ashes. I plan to sell the plot, I should think I'll get a nice sum for it in that neighbourhood. Then I'll move to the country for a nice retirement."

Sanosuke and Kenji stared as the man rambled on. Each word came so close to the previous one they wouldn't have even known when – or how– to interrupt.

"Forgive me. I'm sure you didn't come here to listen to an old man babble. I take it you came to discuss your father's affairs. In that case the verandah will do nicely."

The man took them halfway across the building to a covered open space lined with arches on three side. He invited them to sit on a bench and stood his back against a pillar. For all its busyness, this part of the court was strangely empty.

"This is the most pleasant area in this building. No one comes here, though. The British, they know how to relax and enjoy themselves, but we don't. But enough platitudes. Excuse my rudeness, I haven't even asked your names."

The two men introduced themselves, relieved to be able to place a word at last.

"Good. Good. I have heard of you Sagara-kun. Himura-kun had nothing but praises. And of you as well, of course, Kenji-kun, although he never told me your name. Please accept my most sincere condolences. On with business. What do you wish to know?"

Kenji took the envelope from his sleeve. The paper was limp and the ink blurred, but his father's name was still legible.

"I found this letter in my father's things. "

He handed the man the piece of paper. Hidaka took spectacles out of his breast pocket and put them on. They magnified his eyes comically. He flipped it over twice then took off his glasses.

"I remember this. Accompanied by a large European trunk?"

Kenji nodded.

"Why was my father sendhing his foreign correspondence to your house?"

"My relationship with your father was first and foremost legal. Unlike most lawyers, I rarely plead in court; I take care of financial agreements, contracts, and litigations. Most of it ends up being settled outside the courtroom. Your father did a lot of work for the government and his services were remunerated through various arrangements. Minister Okubo appointed me to deal with his affairs shortly before being assassinated. You looked surprised. I understand. You probably think, how could a simple man like me end up working for such an eminent person?"

They didn't really care, both for different reasons, but there was no stopping the man.

"My mother was the late Minister Okubo's mother's sister-in-law's cousin."

Kenji chanced a glance at Sanosuke. He had a complicated look on his face. He could almost hear the gears in his brain turning.

"My family remained neutral during the war – truth be told, my father whisked us away to China at the first sign of bloodshed. I studied finances with some of the greatest British expats in Hong Kong So I was the perfect choice."

Kenji hoped this was going somewhere but he feared asking any question would throw them so far off course they'd still be here in a few hours' time. Sanosuke's blank stare revealed he was still trying to figure Hidaka's lineage.

"Where was I…? Oh yes, your father's accounts. Each of Himura-kun's contract with the government stipulated a professional wage, daily stipends, and, in some cases, a bonus to be awarded upon completion."

Suddenly, Sanosuke snapped to attention.

"With all due respect, Sensei, that doesn't sound right. Kenshin never accepted any money from the government."

"You're a sharp fellow, Sagara-kun. Indeed, Himura-kun resisted all payments in the beginning but I knew he would come around. Everyone does when it comes to money. So I set up a trust for him and managed it in his name. The birth of Kenji-kun here changed his mind, especially since two of his earlier contracts also provided annuities to be paid in perpetuity and to be transferred to any direct progeny alive at the moment of his passing."

Sanosuke crossed his arms and eyed the lawyer suspiciously.

"Kenshin has been dead for more than a month. Why didn't you reach out?"

Hidaka laughed. His eyebrows wiggled.

"You're a devoted friend, Sagara-kun. Kenji-kun is in good hands with you, as was his father. I was getting to this. It is actually connected to this Dutch letter. Your father's notary, Horibe-sensei, brought me his will within hours of his death, knowing that this would be a conundrum. You see, Himura-kun added a clause to his testament that has thrown me in a legal quandary. He willed his estate to be divided between his progeny excluding his adopted son Yahiko, who would be the sole recipient of your mother's estate. Nothing unusual so far, but one of the descendants being female, and her share to be conditionally obtained solely upon agreement of the male heir, I am being asked to find a way to circumvent Japanese inheritance laws, not to mention to meddle with international laws."

Kenji stared at Hidaka. Had he switched to Chinese halfway through? Sanosuke raised his hand slightly.

"I'm sorry… What?"

Hidaka sighed. He brandished the letter in his hands.

"Himura-kun is dividing his fortune between his two children: Kenji-kun and his sister, Ai Van Der Meer. This his her address in the Netherland."

Kenji's heart skipped a beat.

 _Sister…?_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11**_

 _ **もらい泣き**_

Kenji gave Sanosuke a sharp look. The man, wide-eyed, shook his head vigorously. _Don't ask me!_ The lawyer took no notice.

"You see the predicament I am in. Your father can't legally bequeath your sister anything under Japanese inheritance law. I don't know how he convinced Horibe-sensei to put that in there. As to why he had all foreign correspondence go to my house, it's because he didn't want anything related to his other family anywhere near official offices. Or your mother, for that matter. Which is why I kept all the letters at my residence."

"My mother didn't know about this?" asked Kenji, still reeling.

"Your mother knew of a twin son from the same woman, Iribe Yumiko. Said son passed away in infancy. Kamiya-kun wasn't aware of the surviving daughter. Your father no doubt kept this a secret to avoid resentment over the money. Fairly common."

"But she would have known! Kenji couldn't have inherited all that money without his mother knowing," protested Sanosuke.

Hidaka clicked his tongue.

"No. A clause was included that prevented the beneficiary from receiving the money while Kamiya-san lived. Himura-kun thought of everything. You might also want to know that your father withdrew funds twice. Once in the 19th year of Meiji and once in the 22nd year. Both sums were converted to foreign currency and sent to the address on the envelope you brought to me. The second amount was double the first one. I wouldn't normally know this off the top of my head but I've been working this file so much that every detail is etched in my mind."

Kenji felt light-headed. This was too much information in too little time for him to process. Yet he needed to press on.

"Do you have any of the letters my father received?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Sadly no. The lot went up in flames along with my house. The one you have must have ended up with your father's things by mistake. What is most regrettable is that Himura-kun entrusted me with a sealed letter to be sent to the Netherlands in the event of his death. That has also been destroyed, which means his other family doesn't know of his passing yet."

He gave back the envelope to Kenji who took it with shaky hands.

"I hope I answered your question. I am glad you saved me the trouble of chasing you down. Last your father told me, you were hidden in the mountains of Kyoto. I should be in touch with you within the year, once I settle the legal difficulties of the succession. Fear not, I am quite excellent at what I do; the money will be yours in time. I presume you are staying at your mother's residence?"

Kenji nodded distractedly. Hidaka rubbed his hands together like a merchant having made a great sale.

"Perfect! Well, gentlemen, if you don't anymore questions, I will be on my way."

The duo scrambled to their feet to exchange a polite bow. Hidaka replied in kind and left without further ado.

xxxx

The sun courted the horizon. Heavy black clouds loomed, promising relief from the still oppressive heat. Kenji and Sanosuke walked side by side, silently.

 _His two children. Ai Van Der Meer. His other family. Sister._

These words echoed in Kenji's mind, over and over. He didn't know what to do with them. He didn't want to think about them. He wished he could just go back to knowing nothing. Sanosuke seemed as disconcerted as him at this new information, which meant that whatever _he_ knew about his father was something else entirely. Kenji wondered if he should even bother asking anymore. Could he weather more life altering secrets? He longed for the simplicity of the mountain hut. He ached for the clarity of his sword.

They reached Doctor Genzai's clinic, now Megumi's. Sanosuke wouldn't take the chance of leaving Kenji alone with Yahiko and Tsubame; information of that nature would need to be shared calmly and if his short acquaintance with the young man had taught him anything, it was that Kenji, despite appearances, was a ticking bomb. As soon as they stepped inside, Megumi could read off Sanosuke's face that something was wrong. She forced a smile and invited the boys upstairs to share dinner. Kenji walked passed her and without as much as glance. Megumi locked the door and raised an eyebrow at the tall man. _What is going on?_ Sanosuke shook his head. _Not now._

Megumi hadn't planned on hosting Kenji and so she had to split Sanosuke's share with him. It didn't matter, however; the young man barely touched the food. During their meal, the clouds finally let go of their burden. Heavy rain pelted the roof aided by unrelenting gusts of a strong North wind. The amado were secured, plunging the room in an early darkness. A futon was set up in the waiting room for Kenji to sleep. Sanosuke blessed the rain; he had feared he would have to convince his companion to stay the night.

Kenji lay down and listen to the downpour. He tried to ignore Megumi and Sanosuke's whispers. They were indubitably discussing the events of the day. He didn't want to think about that.

 _His two children. Ai Van Der Meer. His other family. Sister._

He tried to close his mind. After a long while tossing and turning, long after the couple had gone quiet, Kenji fell asleep.

 _A storm raged in the dark of a late September night. The heavy sideway rain and the violent wind competed to see which one of them would rattle the amado the most. In the pitch black six mat room, the little boy trembled, terrified. He'd taken refuge under his duvet, but found the armor lacking. Thunder rolled and a flash of lightning seeped through the cracks of the weather door illuminating the room just long enough create menacing shadows. He couldn't help but peak from his hiding place. Curiosity killed the cat and all that._

 _Okan had offered to sleep with him. He had refused. A boy of his age didn't sleep with his parents. He had just started sleeping on his own a few days ago and wasn't about to prove his mother right. He was not too young to be by himself at night. In this moment, however, he regretted his pride. He would have given anything to cuddle next to his mother. Despite his best efforts not to, he started crying. The wind howled. The sky snarled. The rain hissed._

 _Another flash of light made him realise that one of the amado had been displaced. For a moment, he saw a shadow against the shoji. He screamed and burrowed deeper under the blankets. His sobs intensified as terror gripped him. The amefurikozo had found him. A hand touched him through the fabric. He didn't want to go play in the rain. "Kenji." He covered his ears and prayed that the demon would go away._

 _"Ken-chan?"_

 _The boy felt the warmth of the hand through the duvet. It stroked him, gently. Patiently. This wasn't his mother. Courageously, he lifted a corner of his armour. Despite the darkness, he saw a leg folded in a seiza. The toes were firmly planted on the tatami, ready for action. Kenji cranked his neck and looked up. A man with long loose hair observed him with a half-smile. Relief washed over the child._

 _"Oton!"_

 _Kenji lunged from under the covers onto his father's lap. Kenshin embraced his son, pressing his warm body against his chest. The boy started crying anew. The man rocked back and forth, humming a lullaby._

Kenji woke up with a start. He sat up, his chest heaving. Where was he? He looked around, trying to find a familiar shape in the darkness. Megumi's clinic. He lay back down, resting his forearm on his forehead. That dream… No. It had been more than a dream. A memory. A vivid one, at that. How old had he been… No more than six? His father had come to him, knowing how he feared storms. He remembered how the man had then sat up against the wall, allowing him to fall asleep sheltered and safe. Sword sleeping. That had been his name for Kenshin's uncommon sleeping habits.

He tried to fall back asleep. With nothing else but the rain to distract him, his mind focused on the events of the day. He got up and and walked to the small kitchen to get water. He then sat on the kitchen steps. He felt like his brain would explode under the pressure of his thoughts. He needed to process all this, but didn't know where to start.

"Kenji?"

The boy looked up. A taper in hand, Megumi was quietly making her way down the stairs. Crossing the kitchen in two small steps, she sat down next to him, making him scoot in the narrow space. She blew out the candle and set it on the stone floor.

"Sanosuke told you." More a statement than a question.

He felt her nod against his shoulder.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"I don't know."

He paused. She waited.

"I guess having a sister is a good thing. It means I'm not all alone. Plus it answers a lot of questions about the pictures and letters I found."

He gave Megumi a small summary of his search and finds, lingering on the pictures.

"But?" she asked.

Resting his elbows on his knees, he cradled his forehead in his open hands.

"But I'm angry. There were enough secrets, I didn't need more. Plus how could he do this to my mother? How could he keep a separate family like that! And behind her back! Sending them money, writing to them… Did he not know how depressed he made my mother? While she pined for him all alone with a child, who's to say he wasn't abroad with his _other family_ like that horrible lawyer called them."

Megumi sighed.

"I don't know why Kenshin kept that from you or your mother, but I can assure you that he wasn't in the Netherlands. Such a voyage would have been too long for him to come back home as frequently as he did. I can also tell you, as his doctor, that the wounds I patched did not occur that far overseas. He would have died long before I could have done anything. You said that Ai's picture is dated Meiji 18, that she mentions meeting Kenshin for the first time?"

He nodded reluctantly.

"Then according to your description, that woman, your sister – if that is really what she is – was at least 18 years old when that picture was taken. She would be close to 30 now. If Kenshin truly had another family, it was before he even met your mother."

Kenji looked up and took a deep breath. Megumi was right, of course.

"That's not what's bothering you, is it?"

"What do you mean?" He clenched his fists. She turned to him. He faced her. She was mere inches from him. Even in the darkness, he could see her concerned expression. She extended her hand and tucked one of his locks behind his ear. He felt the warm tip of her delicate fingers.

"Your mother is dead, Kenji."

He flinched.

"You need to let her rest. You need to stop this crusade in her defense. Kaoru knew what she was getting into when she married Kenshin. Let her go. Let her go and face your father with your own feelings. Not hers."

He stared at her for a moment. His eyes prickled. He looked away and grimaced for a split second. He took a deep breath, trying to regain control. Gently, she cupped his cheek and turned his head so he would face her again. She took his right hand in hers.

"What do _you_ feel, Kenji?"

"I…" his voice caught in his throat. He looked down "I'm angry. I hate him for leaving us…" he swallowed hard. "For leaving _me_." His face crumpled but he recovered. He looked ahead. "It was hard enough not having him around. But now… Now, knowing this…" His face puckered with pain, he looked away. Megumi waited. When he turned to her anew she saw tears roll down his face. She squeezed his hand.

"He _wrote_ to her. He sent her _presents_. He kept her picture. He cared about her. Why didn't he…" His voice strangled. He wiped his cheeks. Fresh tears spilt.

"Why didn't he care about _me_?"

He covered his eyes with his free hand and wailed. Megumi's heart ached. They had all wanted him to be happier than any of them had ever been, yet he carried so much pain.

"What did I do wrong?" he sobbed loudly, unable to control himself. "What was I supposed to do?" His voice was laced with an urgency bordering on panic. Megumi let go of his hand and embraced him, pulling him to her chest. He grabbed on to her with the desperation of a drowning man. She rested her cheek atop his head and rubbed his back.

"Wasn't I enough?" he asked, his voice muffled. Kenji's body trembled as he wept. Megumi held back her own tears, unwilling to give in her own grief.

Outside, the rain kept on falling loudly. On the second floor, seated on the very last step, Sanosuke, a hand covering his eyes, cried silently.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 12**_

 _ **Words left unsaid**_

 _January 3, Meiji year 30 – 6 months later_

Kenji woke up and rubbed his eyes. His breath floated away in small clouds. He chanced a foot outside the warmth of his futon. He retreated swiftly and shivered. _Courage!_ He flung the covers off and rushed to dress himself up. His clothes were cold doing nothing to appease his quivering body. He wrapped a scarf around his neck and grabbed his bokuto before sliding the door open. He sheltered his eyes with his hand. Two inches of snow had fallen overnight, covering the courtyard with a pristine carpet that shimmered under the morning rays. Kenji slipped on his waraji and took a few tentative steps. He couldn't remember the last time fallen snow had stayed in Tokyo. He looked at the plum tree. The winter had been uncommonly warm, allowing an early bloom. Pink blossoms and flakes mingled on the branches. He took a deep breath, taking in the cold scent in. Days like this made him grateful for his early practice.

He nipped around the kitchen to see what was for breakfast. He found Tsubame and her round belly busy above a pot of miso soup. Dried fish and tsukemono had been set aside. He helped himself to a few slices of takuan.

"The bath should be ready by the time we're done with breakfast," she said, in a chirpy voice.

He grunted and reached for the dried fish. She slapped his wrist with the shamoji.

"You'll eat at the table or not at all," she threatened with a smile. He backed away.

Pregnancy suited the young woman. Her face now had a roundness that soften the rough edge of a childhood spent working. She glowed and had acquired an overall positive mood that uplifted their little family.

"You shouldn't carry this!" chastised Yahiko, entering the kitchen. He tried to take away the pot for her hand but she avoided him with rehearsed skill. Tsubame's pregnancy had turned the man into a mother hen. The young woman had become an expert had deflecting the unnecessary care.

"Off you go, you two. You can carry those plates. Come on!"

The trio sat at the kotatsu. Two hibachi had been lit up to provide more heat. Despite her husband's protests, Tsubame had insisted on opening the shoji to admire the snow covered garden.

"Remember how Kaoru used to hate the snow?" mused Tsubame.

"It makes the pupils excitable. Not to mention the fact that they always manage to get some on the floor," rejoined Yahiko, his mouth full.

Tsubame nodded.

"Did Kenshin like snow?"

Kenji looked up from his bowl to see the couple stare at him.

"What?"

"Your father, did he like snow?"

They'd taken to asking him questions about his father after learning of Ai's existence and of the funds he had left the estranged siblings. He wasn't too sure why but he had a feeling Megumi was behind it. Something about reconciling himself with his father, no doubt. He thought it ironic that they should ask him about a man they knew so much more about than he. He searched his memory.

"He liked to look at it fall, I think. But sometimes it felt like he wasn't really seeing the snow in front of him; he was seeing something completely different."

He gave them a look, opening the table for them to discuss as to why this was. They immediately changed the subject. This was the strategy he'd devised; each of his answers lead to a veiled question about Kenshin's past. It never worked, but at least they left him alone.

The sound of the gate opening and closing distracted them from the uncomfortable conversation. Sanosuke walked in their field of vision. His face was reddened by the cold and, for once, his clothes were fastened properly.

"Kenji! It's here!"

He clambered up the engawa, barely pausing long enough to take off his waraji.

"Good morning to you, too, Sano." said Yahiko in a sarcastic voice.

The man ignore him and sat at the kotatsu, nearly knocking over the hibachi hidden underneath. He brandished a piece of paper, slapped in on the table and slid it across to Kenji.

"I got here just as the mail was being delivered."

The young man's heart beat fast. This was it. The moment of truth. Fingers trembling, he picked up the letter.

 _16 October, 1897_

 _Penningcox Park_

 _Yorkshire_

 _My dear Mr. Himura,_

 _I pray you will forgive my forthcomingness in expressing my joy at receiving your favour. I do however regret that such sad tidings are to be the foundation of our acquaintance. Please accept my most sincere condolences. Your late father was very much cherish by all of us and his passing brought us much sadness. I thank you dearly for joining your likeness. Many years have gone since I last lay eyes on your dear father and yourself. If I may be so bold, I dare say you have grown into a fine young man, much like your father at your age. You have inquired as to the nature of our relationship. Truth be told, its complexity deserves the recounting of tales I do not dare put down in writing. At the very least, I can assure you that myself and your person share no blood ties. The same may not be said of my daughter, as I believe you have already deduced from the photographs you possess._

 _If I may be so forward, I would like to formally invite you and any companion of whom you judge the presence necessary to join us here at Penningcox Park or at our London residence, the season dictating. It would be mine and my family's pleasure to count you as a friend. Please know that I understand the magnitude of such an undertaking, having undergone it myself many years ago. I pray you will forgive my forwardness in joining the necessary funds for your travels. Were you to decline our invitation, please use them as you see most fit._

 _With Sincere Regards,_

 _Iribe Yumiko_

 _P.S.: I pray you will forgive the delay in my response. The residence at which you favour was sent is no longer part of our estate. Please do send your reply to the enclosed London address._

Kenji flattened the piece of paper on the table and looked out at the snow covered courtyard. His companions started at him eagerly. What a convoluted way of saying nothing, he thought.

"That woman is well-educate," noted Yahiko in an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence.

Tsubame nodded in agreement.

"That level of Japanese… No one write like this anymore…" she replied, skirting around the question that was on all their lips.

Sanosuke had no such qualms.

"So... Are you going to go to England?"

xxxx

Kenji closed the lid of the steamer trunk. No matter how many times he reorganised it, he just couldn't feel at ease. He had long debated whether he should go to England or not. His first impulse had been to refuse the invitation. Tsubame and Yahiko were going to need help around the house once the baby arrived. The couple had been adamant that he go; the only reason he hadn't returned to Kyoto was because he'd been waiting this letter. Now that it had arrived, his only two choices were to go back to Hiko Seijuro's hut or to go to England. Kenji had then observed that Hidaka-sensei needed him around to close Kenshin's succession. Sanosuke had pointed out that the man would find him wherever he was in Japan and that seeing Ai in person might even help the lawyer speed the process along. Ultimately, Megumi had appealed to his desire to learn more about Kenshin. Here was someone who seemed to know a lot and who hadn't been sworn to secrecy. Absolved of all responsibility, Kenji had had to concede that he was curious enough to undertake the journey.

If they had all insisted he go, they had all refused to let him do so alone. With the child on the way, Yahiko and Tsubame had been eliminated as potential companions. Kenji would have liked Megumi to come along but someone had to take care of the clinic. Hidaka-sensei's name had been raised but Kenji had categorically refused. It had soon become clear that Sanosuke was the only viable option. Having worked undercover for the police for the last few months, he needed to make himself scarce; the timing couldn't have been more perfect. And so it had been decided.

Now, on the eve of his departure, in his small Yokohama hotel room, he could feel his resolve slowly melting away. People died at sea all the time, didn't they? What if he got sick aboard the ship? What if he got to England and didn't get along with his hosts? What if this was all in vain and he learned nothing about his father? For his entire life, every detail of the man had been shrouded in a thick mystery. Why would that change?

"Still brooding?"

He started.

"Megumi oba-san!"

The woman had insisted on accompanying Sanosuke and Kenji to see them off in Yokohama. She smiled at him.

"May I come in?"

"Of course!"

He arranged the zabutons he'd kicked to the side earlier to repack his trunk. She sat in a seiza and so did he.

"Nervous?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Good. The great Onoe Kikugoro V says he always gets the jitters before he gets on stage. He says that's a sign of a great performance to come. This is your stage, give your best performance." She smiled

"I had never imagined I would ever leave Japan. I just don't know what to expect. What if this is the wrong path?"

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Sanosuke, Yahiko, your mother, your father and even I, we've all lived through hard times. We've all fought the demons of our past so you could live in a world of possibilities. This very moment is proof that we took the right decisions, made the right sacrifices. Don't allow doubt to stop you from living to the fullest."

He nodded, afraid that if he spoke, his voice would be but a croak. Anger simmered inside him laced with the feeling of guilt at not knowing what she referred to. As if sensing the turmoil, she gave him a wistful smile and reached for his hand. He jumped at the unexpected touch. She scrutinized his palm, its roughness, its calluses, and its hard lines. She enfolded his fingers in hers, gently closing his hand into a loose fist. He stared at her face, mesmerized. Her eyes were fixed on his hands, but looked as if they were seeing past them.

"You have the same hands."

He tensed. A reflex. He was nothing like his father, the old litany. She looked up and stared him straight in the eyes.

"I patched up your father so many times I lost count. I wish I could've patched up his soul. Then maybe he would have found redemption in you."

Kenji trembled. The ball of anger in his stomach churned. Megumi's words and tone were making him very uncomfortable. He feared she would break into tears again. It stoked the fire of his mixed feelings even more. Suddenly, she caught herself and let go of his hand. She got up and smoothed the front of her kimono.

"Make me a promise. Promise you'll come back in one piece."

"I promise."

She walked out, leaving Kenji feeling dazed and confused.

xxxx

Once again, Kenji couldn't fall asleep. His mind was filled to the brim with images of the ship he'd board the next day and of the three month voyage that awaited him. He slipped a haori over his yukata and stepped out of his room, intent on taking some fresh air. The smooth wood of the hallway chilled his feet. His breath materialised in the air in front of him.

On the way out, he heard voices coming from Sanosuke and Megumi's voice. He stopped. He hesitated a moment; he shouldn't eavesdrop. Curiosity got the best of him. He quietly sat down, bringing in his knees in the folds of his haori and listened.

"This is a longer voyage than any you've ever taken. Will you be alright?" she asked.

"You know I'll be fine."

"Aren't you afraid the ship will steal your soul?"

A chuckle.

"You're a real fox, you know that?"

Silence.

"Joking aside, I worry about Kenji. All that pent up rage… All that pain… Promise me you'll protect him from himself… and everything else," Megumi said.

Kenji resisted the urge to jump out of hiding place. He could take care of himself, thank you very much.

"Don't you worry."

A pause

"Megumi…"

The man cleared his throat.

"I know how you felt for him. I don't kid myself into thinking that one day you might feel the same thing for me…"

Kenji's heartbeat quickened. This was his cue.

"But if I make it out of all this alive… would you consider…?"

He didn't want to hear this. Kenji tried to get up and, his feet numb, tripped over the hem of his yukata. He plunged forward, loudly stopping his fall with the wall. The door slid open, Megumi's head poked out. He gave her an embarrassed grin.

"I was just getting water," he mumbled.

"The kitchen is in the opposite direction," she retorted.

Kenji scratched the back of his head. In the darkness of the room, Sanosuke faced away from him.

"Right. Good night then."

"Good night," replied Megumi in an amused voice. Sanosuke grunted something akin to a salutation.

As he walked back to his room, Kenji heard Megumi's laughter echo in the hallway.


	13. Chapter 13

**_Chapter 13_**

 ** _When the levee breaks_**

At first, he HMS Jubilant provided Kenji with endless adventures. He'd never boarded a vessel this size, let alone a steam ship. Although cargo occupied most of the hull, two small decks accommodated passengers. Iribe Yumiko's money had allowed them to secure one of the most luxurious cabins. The young man explored every accessible area, and when doors were locked, he quickly befriended members of the crew who then showed him around areas that were off limits. The swinging hammocks of the sailor quarters had impressed him the most. What a strange life these people must lead. By the end of the first week, every member of staff, from the petty officers to the captain knew him by name. He'd also managed to hit it off with an American translator on his way to Britain. The man, in his early fifties, took a liking to the boy and set about to teach him English.

By contrast, Sanosuke kept mostly to himself, hanging out on the upper deck when weather permitted, only rarely interacting with the other passengers. His face was a permanent sullen mask. The children of a couple bound for Hong Kong had been fascinated by the tall man and, against all expectations, he'd spent many hours entertaining them. The absence of a common language didn't seem to bother them. They had disembarked early in the journey and so Sanosuke had settled in his silence anew.

A month in, many passengers having come and gone, the many parts of the ship having been explored, Kenji found himself bored. His progress with the English lessons were astounding but aside from these daily conversations with Isaac, he had little distractions. He'd been advised that although his sword would be tolerated on board (thanks to an unexpected special permission obtained by Fujita Goro), it wasn't to be displayed for the other passengers to see. Kenji found himself up at the crack of dawn to get in a hour (if lucky and if the ship didn't rock too much) of practice on the upper deck.

And so, with nothing better to do, Kenji thought. He tried not to, but what else was he supposed to do? He tried to remember everything he could about his father. It wasn't much and most of it was negative. With this fuel, he stoked the fires of his anger and hatred to the point where his body shook with rage. A the height of those moment, he would sit in their cabin, glaring at the crate containing the sakabato. He couldn't find a good reason why he had taken the sword with him; he just had. On other days, Kenji would reflect upon the words of his friends and family. It always boiled down to two things: sacrifice and gratitude. His father had sacrificed so much. His father had saved so and so. Kenji had to show gratitude for the world he lived in, etc, etc. They all had sacrificed so much. He had enough of this. How could he be grateful when he didn't even know what to be grateful for? He would have been grateful for a normal family, a normal life. Once engaged in this line of thinking, Kenji relentlessly sought Sanosuke to pester him with question the older man avoided.

They'd left Calcutta a few days before and were making their slow voyage towards Bombay. The novelty of his fascinating, if short, exploration of the Indian city having worn out, Kenji had settled in his brooding again. The heat didn't allow for extended periods in the belly of the ship so the young man, in a foul state of mind, made a beeline line for Sanosuke who hung out in a quieter corner of the ship. He found him leaning forward on the ship's starboard railing. He'd let his patchy beard grow and his unruly hair was tied in a botched top knot. Taking advantage of the protection of the secluded area, he'd taken off his gi and wore only his trousers. Despite this measure, Kenji noticed that Sanosuke's body gleamed with sweat.

The young man leaned on the railing next to his travel companion. The latter barely gave him a sideway glance before grunting in acknowledgement. They remained thus a while. Thoughts churned in Kenji's mind as he tried to find the best overture for a conversation he knew wouldn't happen but would at least provide a distraction. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't try me, kozo. This heat is not good for my mood," said Sanosuke.

Kenji closed his mouth. Well that would go swimmingly, he thought. He clenched his jaw.

"Don't you have a meeting with that Yankee?"

Kenji shook his head and wiped his face with his sleeve.

"The heat is getting to him. We'll meet in the evening."

Kenji stared at the ocean, undeterred.

"Sanosuke. I need to know."

The man sighed and wiped the sweat pearling on his face.

"Not now, Kenji."

The young man turned to face Sanosuke.

"If not now, then when? It's not like we have anything else to do. Nobody tells me anything." Even to himself, he sounded like a petulant child. Yet he couldn't help it. The anger bubbled. "All I know I've found through this stupid treasure hunt."

Sanosuke's head pounded. He'd been doing his fair share of rumination from the outset of the journey.

"Ignorance is bliss. Just be grateful" Trite words, but the best he could muster at the moment.

Kenji fumed.

"Screw that bullshit! I have a right to know. You all tell me to be grateful all the time. What is there to be grateful for?"

Kenji's unusual use of profanity smarted Sanosuke to attention. Slowly, he stretched back up and faced the young man who stood akimbo, fists clenched. His eyes seemed darker. His mouth was but a thin straight line. Kenji gulped.

"You want to know what to be grateful for?"

His voice was low, but he heard it clearly as a whisper in his ear. It sent shivers down his spine. He resisted the urge to take a step back and took one forward instead, his eyes fixed on Sanosuke's.

"Yes," he replied, defiantly.

Sanosuke towered over him.

"How about being grateful for not having to work as a pickpocket for a band of yakuza before the age of ten like Yahiko did?"

Kenji's eyes widened. The man took a step forward. He backed away.

"How about being grateful for not being destitute after your entire family died or disappeared? For not having to make opium for a demented doctor who holds your life in his hands like Megumi had to?"

Kenji stared, mouth agape. Was this true? He didn't have time to ponder for long; Sanosuke wasn't done.

"Is that enough to be grateful for?" His words came in a guttural growl very unlike the usual lighthearted Sanosuke. Kenji's stomach tightened.

"I'm sorry," he managed.

Sanosuke scoffed. Sweat rolled down his face. He didn't seem to notice.

"Sorry for what? For prying, prying and prying? Who do you think you are that you believe the world owes you the entire truth on everything and everyone?"

Sanosuke took a step closer. Kenji backed into a skylight. He leaned away as far as possible.

"Do you think you're the only one who's suffered? Has it never crossed your mind that we don't want to tell you about those things because they hurt too much?"

Kenji averted his gaze. A few people had gathered nearby and watched the commotion with a curious concern.

"I had to watch…" Sanosuke's voice strangled. He punched the skylight right next to Kenji's head. The young man's head snapped back to attention. The older man's brow was knitted in a deep frown and his mouth twisted in a painful grimace.

"I had to watch my older brother's beheading. Is this the kind of information that you want?"

Those words took the last of Sanosuke's fury out. He turned around, grabbed his gi from the deck and walked away. Kenji took a deep breath and slid down against the skylight. His entire body trembled. The world around him came in and out of focus. He brought his knees to his chest and rested his head atop.

He'd cracked open the lid of the tamatebako and had gotten his just deserve.

NOTE

The tamatebako is an element of the Japanese folktale of Urashima Taro. Although different in terms of consequences, it is often compared to Pandora's box.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Chapter 14**_

 _ **De nobis fabula narratur**_

Sanosuke didn't come back to the cabin that night. Kenji was relieved. He didn't know what he could have said to him. He was also glad they were at sea. He feared the man might have disappeared in the Indian crowd never to come back. He had to admit that despite all his bravado, he was grateful for his presence. Grateful. The word made him cringe. His companion's words came rushing back to him. He couldn't believe all he'd said to be the truth. No. He did believe it. Sanosuke had no reason to make something so awful up. He believed but could not imagine it. How would someone as soft, kind and emotional as Yahiko have worked for criminals? It simply seemed impossible. And Megumi, always there to help and make people feel better, how could she possibly have made a substance that destroyed the life of so many? Inconceivable. Sanosuke's last revelation remained the most shocking. It said everything and nothing at the same time. Part of him yearned to know more while the other part begged him, for the love of everything holy under the sky, to stay as far away as possible from the subject.

Although those stories differed greatly, they all had something in common: his father. Somehow, Himura Kenshin had pulled these three people out of the morass of despair their lives had been and given them a second chance. Judging by what everyone kept hinting at, he hadn't stopped at those three. He remembered the government officials at the funeral and Kawaji at the police station. If they were to be believed, his father had saved the nation twice over. This was all good and commendable, but it did nothing to alleviate the heavy weight of anger and resentment he carried around. His father had helped all those people while he and his depressed mother had sat at home, waiting for him, needing him. Were they not worthy of his precious time? Not wanting to risk the slippery slope of those emotions, he tried to clear his head. He rolled onto his back and grunted with frustration. His mind felt fuller than before. He sat up, put on his hakama and grabbed his sword. If he couldn't sleep, he'd at least do something useful.

xxxx

The sword slashed the air. On the horizon, the sun coloured the sky with a warm orange palette. Despite the cool morning air, Kenji sweat profusely. His hair, gathered in a neat topknot earlier, came out of its leather strip in wisps, framing his face with a red aureole. His bangs stuck to his forehead and no matter how many times he brushed them away, they ended up right back where they'd started. He flowed from one kata to the other, completely focused.

Sanosuke leaned against the railing and observed. Although he'd seen Kenshin do incredible things in battle, he could tell that Kenji was ten times the kenkaku his father had been. Kaoru hadn't exaggerated the genius of her son. He had surpassed both his parents and would probably surpass old man Seijuro once he learned the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu ougi, Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki. That kid could easily end Sanosuke. Good thing he didn't know it. He grew somber. What dangerous weapon he would have been in the hands of the Ishin Shishi… It truly was a blessing that he'd been born to Kenshin, and not the other way around.

Sanosuke observed a little longer, appreciating the fluidity of the young man's movement. He made it look so easy. He cleared his throat. Kenji stopped mid-stance and looked around, disoriented for a split second. His eyes found the man and immediately, he averted them. Sanosuke swung himself upright and walked to the boy who, visibly flustered, tried to sheathe his sword. The older man waited at a safe distance: he came in peace.

Kenji struggled to slip the katana back in the saya, nearly skinning his thumb in the process. His legs shook and his arms felt like dead weight. His hands gave shooting pain. He raised his upturned palms. His fingers bled. He let his arms drop to his side and chanced a look at Sanosuke. The man had a neutral expression.

"Been at it long?" he asked.

"Most of the night."

Sanosuke nodded at nothing in particular.

"Couldn't sleep either."

Kenji averted his gaze. Sanosuke took a deep breath.

"I think I owe you an apology."

Kenji focused on his big toe, with which he was nudging a bump in the deck.

"You warned me. I pried. I got my just deserve."

"I don't think it was right."

Kenji looked up at Sanosuke, confused

"Yes, as I just said, it was wrong of…"

"I mean I don't think it was right, keeping you in the dark about everything and everyone like that." Sanosuke interrupted.

Kenji nodded, remembering his angry words to his father, so many years ago. The man smiled faintly, unaware. He scratched the back of his head.

"Go wash up. Then we can talk, one man to another."

xxxx

Kenji found Sanosuke asleep on a bench facing the stern. He sat next to him and closed his eyes, letting the sun warm his face. Now that the conversation was about to take place, his mind felt blank. All the questions that had been niggling him had vanished. He opened his eyes and shifted making the bench creak. Sanosuke blinked and stretched.

"Guess this old man fell asleep." He grinned for a second then his face turned serious. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his legs, his arm dangling in-between. Kenji got up and sat across from him on the deck, leaning on a cleat. He patiently waited for Sanosuke to gather his thoughts.

"I've been wracking my brains about this for a while. Long before today, but especially last night."

A pause. A gull mewed in the distance.

"I can't tell you everything about your father."

Kenji tensed.

"Let me finish before you get all worked up. I can't tell you everything about your father because I don't know everything. And what I know is probably a toned down version of whatever really happened. So I can tell you what relates to me."

"And Yahiko? And Megumi?"

"Yeah. I guess I can tell you about them, too, though technically it's not my place to do so. But since I've already dropped the ball on that one... When poisoned, might as well eat the plate, or so they say."

Kenji nodded. He'd imagined this moment in one form or another for so long, yet he didn't feel like he had envisioned. No righteous pride. Not even the vindication he'd sought for so long. He felt only apprehension.

"So, let's start with the _easier_ ones."

Sanosuke then proceeded to tell him about Yahiko. This had been before he even knew Kenshin, although he knew of him. He had heard this tale from Kaoru. Yahiko's parents were of the samurai caste, but the lower level. Having fallen on hard times, the boy had ended up having to steal for a yakuza gang in order to survive. He was good at it, that is, until he met his match in Kenshin. Kenji's father had challenged the yakuzas and won. His prize: Yahiko.

"Now at that point your father was nothing but a freeloader at the dojo. So the decision to take on a kid when Kaoru's business was flagging wasn't received very well. Especially since your mother and Yahiko were both stubborn and kept butting heads."

"I can't imagine him like that." He'd only ever seen Yahiko and his mother on good terms.

"The Yahiko you know is very different. He was always a soft, gentle kid, but he had to build a shell in order to survive. We all did."

Sanosuke then switched over Megumi's story, how she'd lost her family and how she'd ended up working for a madman making a highly addictive strain of opium. He grew somber. Kenji waited. The older man frowned, some kind of internal debate obviously taking place. He shook his head and continued.

"Aoshi's gang… You remember Aoshi and Misao? No? Oh well, next time you're in Kyoto we'll make sure to introduce you. Anyway, so his gang also got involved in this and they all died, except for Aoshi, that is. Kenshin and I saved Megumi, but it was a close call. The whole thing was truly horrible."

"Did…" Kenji tried to find the right word to designate his father without having to call him dad. "Did _he_ kill anyone?"

"Who? Kenshin?" Sanosuke laughed. "No. He already had his sakabato by then. Doesn't mean he didn't do any damage. He didn't know the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu ougi at that point, though."

"Really?!" Kenji perked up.

"Yeah. It's complicated. Let's not get into this."

The young man's shoulder slumped.

"So I guess that leaves me," said Sanosuke.

He sat up and lifted a knee to his chest, his foot resting on the bench. He stared in the distance for a while, unsure of how to begin.

"Kenji, you've studied the history of the Meiji restoration, right?"

The young man nodded. He'd studied the official version at school.

Sanosuke faced him anew, his gaze piercing.

"Tell me, who won the war?"

"The Ishin," Kenji answered without hesitation.

"Correct. Would you agree then, that they, being the victors, got to write history."

"I guess…"

"Unless you access to the private archives of the government, which probably don't contain anything incriminating anyway, every source will tell you how the Ishin won a just war against the evil shogunate. But it never was that clean cut. What do you know of the Sekihoutai?"

The name sounded familiar. Kenji jogged his memory, trying to remember. In the back of his head, he couldn't help but wonder what this had to do with anything.

"They were rebels. The Ishin put them down," he ventured.

Sanosuke clenched his fist on his wrist and exhaled loudly.

"That's what they say now, but we were much more than that."

Kenji raised an eyebrow. _We?_


	15. Chapter 15

_**Chapter 15**_

 _ **Acte de foi**_

 _April 12, 1898_

 _London_

To Kenji's relief, the gangway, went directly from the ship to a tall red brick building, completely avoiding the swarming docks below. As soon as they had entered London, the young man had been glued to the railing, looking at the merchant ships, the ferries and other boats that crowded the Thames. The gigantic warehouse on South Bank mesmerised him. He observed as the coolies loaded and unloaded cargo that, not unlike him, had or would most likely travel halfway across the earth. At the head of the Industrial Revolution, and sporting a population more than three times that of Japan in London alone, the British Empire was unique in the world. Or so had said Isaac. So far the American had been right about the overwhelming nature of the place, but London's nickname, The Old Smoke,had all but failed to warn the newcomers about the stench of the place. This cloying scent had a way of sticking to the inside of the nose with the added bonus of a coat of soot. Still, Kenji's curiosity had remained undeterred and he had stayed at his post. Sanosuke had been quick to hole himself in the cabin, preferring darkness over dark snot.

They crossed over to the building with Isaac who had offered to help them find their escort before parting ways. That is, if escort there was. Once the trip had been decided upon, they had elected to send a letter just three weeks ahead of themselves. They could only pray that Iribe Yumiko had received it. As they stepped inside the waiting room-cum-warehouse, Kenji was overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the place. People milled around them, clipping them without looking back. The high vaulted ceiling amplified the voices, making the young man feel like the Gion Matsuri of the last ten years were happening all at once, in a fraction of the space. The unbearable human stench all but made his eyes water. He clenched his and his father's wrapped swords against his chest.

They made their way across the fray and finally stepped outside. Kenji coughed, the smoky air offering no relief, simply a different kind of unpleasantness. Isaac covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief. The young man used his sleeve. Sanosuke coughed and wheezed. The American lead them to the side of the building where the passengers' luggage had been unloaded. On the street bordering the area, a few hansom cabs waited for clients. The drivers stared at the two Japanese men with curiosity. One of them hailed Kenji. He didn't get a word.

"What did he say?" he asked Isaac.

The man set his bag on his trunk, freshly retrieved from under the pile by a Chinese coolie.

"You don't want to know."

"Did he speak English?" insisted Kenji.

"I'm afraid I taught you American English. People speak differently here. You should be able to understand your relatives, mind you. That man just has a very thick Cockney accent." Isaac covered his nose again.

"But what did he say?" asked the young man, relentless.

"He ask where you get such nice skirt," answered the coolie pointing at Kenji..

He looked down at his hakama. Sanosuke guffawed. Isaac shook his head.

"Shouldn't you be helping these gentlemen?" he asked in a condescending voice.

"Maybe you pay first," replied the man without skipping a beat.

Isaac sighed and fished for a coin in his pocket. Sanosuke, who hadn't lost a moment of the exchange, raise his hand to stop the American. He suddenly, and to everyone's surprise, started to speak in Mandarin. The coolie first stared at him in awe, then the two of them stroke a conversation. As they spoke, Sanosuke helped the Chinese man look for their luggage. Mouth agape, Isaac and Kenji could only stare.

"Excuse me, gentlemen?"

Kenji turned around to find himself face to face with the blondest man he had ever seen in his entire life.

"Are you Mr Himura?"

"Yes?"

Relief washed on the stranger's face.

"I am Fersen Van Der Meer, your sister's husband," he introduced himself in flawless Japanese. Clearly, everyone except him had secret language skills. The Dutchman offered his hand. The young man stared at it.

"You should shake it," said Isaac, elbowing him. He did. It felt extremely awkward and intimate.

Isaac immediately extended his own hand to Fersen and introduced himself. They went back in forth in a rapid English that proved too fast for Kenji to follow. Isaac finally turned back to his pupil.

"I'm afraid this is where we part ways, my friend. I will only be in London for a month and Mr. Van de Meer here tells me you'll leave for the country soon. However should you have the chance, don't hesitate to call on me at my London address. You have my address in Boston, regardless."

Kenji thanked him profusely for his help. The American humbly deflected the praises. In the meantime, Sanosuke and his coolie friend had come back with their trunks. The two men laughed like old pals.

"Please tell your friend it was a pleasure to make his acquaintance."

Kenji duly translated. Isaac gave one last round of handshakes and hailed one of the hansom drivers.

"Come," said Fersen to the two remaining travelers. "You chariot awaits!"

They sat in the growler which advanced an inch at a time, caught in the evening traffic of theatre goers and other night wanderers. Their luggage had been fastened to the carriage by the driver with the help of the coolie. When had come the time to go their separate ways, Sanosuke had tried to give the man some money for his trouble but the man had refused. They had given each other the palm and fist salute before the Chinese man had walked away. Now Sanosuke was fast asleep and Kenji kept his face glued to the window, taking in the novelty and strangeness of the place. Fersen looked at him with an amused smile.

"Does it make you dizzy?" he asked.

"It is a little bit overwhelming," replied Kenji without looking away.

"Doesn't seem to bother Sagara-san."

Kenji smiled.

"He's a strange man."

The carriage jolted forward and for a moment they were moving at a decent pace. Then the whole thing came to a halt again. Kenji pointed at a gigantic building, and asked Fersen about it.

"That's the British Museum. We will take you if wish."

Kenji nodded. They remained silent for a while. Sanosuke snore

"I wish Ai could have seen it all," said Fersen.

The young man finally looked at his brother-in-law.

"What do you mean?"

The Dutchman looked surprised.

"You weren't told?"

Kenji frowned.

"Your sister is blind."

The oddness of Ai's eyes in the later pictures of her suddenly made sense.

"Oh… I'm sorry," managed the young man.

Fersen smiled.

"Don't be. She's been blind for most of her life. And she's quite the terror even without her eyesight. Plus if she could see, what would she say about his?" He pointed at his face and laughed some more. Kenji hesitated to join in, unsure if it would be rude.

"She'll probably tell you all about it."

The growler came to a halt. Fersen peeked outside.

"Here we are."

The driver stepped down and opened the door. Kenji elbowed Sanosuke in the ribs. The man jerked awake and followed his companion outside. They looked around. The gaslight lit up a square plaza lined on each side with an uninterrupted row of grey brick house facades, their windows lit up by orange glows. At the center, a lush garden with inviting paths and benches completed this tidy citadine picture. Although the place smelled much better, there still lingered in the air the scent of coal. The sounds of the city, although muffled, were still audible.

A red door opened and two men in full livery came out. Ferson instructed them in Dutch. One of the man picked up the bundle of wrapped swords. Kenji immediately snatched it from his hands and eyed his trunk. Sanosuke sat on his. The servant looked at his boss. Fersen nodded.

"You don't have to worry about anything, gentlemen. I would trust these two with my life. Your belongings are in good hands. Now if you'll follow me, Ai is waiting inside and she's very anxious to meet you."

As if on cue, a petite slender woman with hair that shone like fire in the gaslight stepped out of the house. Her arm was hooked around that of a maid who, rather than leading, was being lead decisively by her mistress.

"Fersen?"

"Here darling!"

He walked to meet her, taking over the poor girl who immediately retreated back into the house. The couple exchanged a few quick words in a hybrid language. Fersen gave her a kiss. Kenji couldn't help but stare at her. Although she wore her hair up a la Gibson girl and was clad in a fashionable pale western dress, she eerily resembled his – their – father. Sanosuke grinned. Ai finally closed the distance between them. The young boy stood to attention, unsure of what else to do.

"Kenji." she said with a Japanese pronunciation.

"Yes!" He stiffly replied. Sanosuke snickered

Without warning, she grabbed her brother's right shoulder and followed his arm down. Kenji stiffened.

"For God's sake, Ai, warn people before you assault them!" Fersen laughed, shaking his head.

She took Kenji's hand in hers. Her skin was soft, unlike his.

"I'm sorry, brother. Do I have your permission?"

He shook his head. She laughed.

"You might want to use your words. Although I felt that, I couldn't see it."

He felt his face grow warm. Despite the chill i the air, he started to sweat. Sanosuke, grateful for the comic relief, looked on the scene with amusement.

For a moment, she turned his this way and that, exploring his palm and fingers with her own. He remained still. The novelty of this proximity made him uncomfortable yet he had a strong desire to make a good impression. She reached for his left hand. He gave it to her. A smiled illuminated her face.

"Yes. There is no doubt about it. You are his son."


	16. Chapter 16

**_Chapter 16_**

 ** _Lies and other forms of love_**

They sat in the front room. Ai in a fauteuil, Kenji alone on a loveseat. Sanosuke, ensconced in a leather fauteuil had surrendered to sleep again. Fersen had retired, pclaiming he had business to attend early in the morning. The gaslight and the fireplace lit the late evening like Kenji had never experienced before. Even on the ship, the crew hadn't been this generous with light. How many more things could one fit in a day with the aid of such technology? His brain was overwhelmed and he felt slightly queasy. He focused on the burning fire. Ai remained remained silent, lost in thoughts, or maybe waiting for Kenji to break the silence. From time to time, he would chance a glance her way. He felt it rude to stare, despite the slim chance of her noticing. Or so he thought.

"Kenji?" said the woman in a soft voice.

He looked back at the flames.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to take a very good look at my face?"

He tensed. She didn't laugh.

"I can feel your eyes on me."

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head.

"Please don't be. This is very strange for me as well. Please, look. Do I resemble him?"

He turned to her and observed her features. Her nose, the shape of her eyes, the cheekbones… They had something of Kenshin. The mouth was definitely different.

"There is a resemblance, but the western hairdo makes it hard to tell for sure."

With deft fingers, she pulled a few pins from her hair. It fell around her, a cascade of copper. With a certain hand, she smoothed it down and bunched it at the base of the neck, tying with a ribbon. Suddenly, despite her western attire, she looked very Japanese.

She smiled.

"How about now?"

He observed her. Something was slightly off.

"Don't smile," he said.

She complied.

Better, but still different.

"Could you cover your mouth?"

She did. Kenji reeled. She looked like him. In fact, she was simply a more delicate version of him. He felt a pang in his stomach. He looked away.

"Are you alright."

He took a deep breath. He felt dizzy. She got up and crossed over to sit next to him. She took his hand in hers for the second time this evening.

"Please forgive me. I'm afraid I'm being rather forward. I must confess I have been awaiting your arrival with anxiety. I've been wracking my brain to find a way to get you out of your shell. I did not stop for a moment to consider your feelings. Please forgive me."

He looked up. She smiled at him wistfully. Her lips made a world of difference, making her Ai again.

"I'm not sure I even know how I feel."

She nodded.

"Of course. Ours are strange circumstances. I think your friend Sagara-san here has the right idea. Why not go to sleep? Surely things will be clearer in the morning."

Without waiting for his answer, she rang a small bell which, until then, had rested on a small gueridon.

A manservant appeared. Ai made a request in Dutch.

"Jan will lead you to your room. I will arrange for your friend to be taken to his room when he wakes."

She squeezed his hand.

"Good night, brother."

"Good night," he replied, unable to muster the word sister.

The bed creaked as Kenji shifted for the nth time. As soon as he'd lied down, he had found himself completely awake, his mind racing with a million things he would have liked to ask Ai. Where was her mother, Yumiko? What was this business of going to the country? How long had she been blind? Why did they have such a big house? Why had they moved to England?

He pulled the covers off in frustration. This bed simply wouldn't do. It was so soft it made his back hurt. He sat up, grabbed a warm blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders like a cape. He found his sword atop his trunk and took it. Looking around in the darkness, he found an appropriate wall and sat against it. He leaned the sword against his chest and arranged the blanket. The floor was much harder than tatami but it would have to do. He soon fell in a deep sleep.

xxxx

Morning found him lying on his side, the blanket barely covering him and his hand wrapped loosely around the scabbard of his sword. A perfectly aligned ray of sunshine stabbed him in the eyes. He grunted and pulled in his arm to prop himself up. His arm flopped next to him. He squinted in the sun, trying to take a look. His arm was still there, his hand still weakly holding on to the sword. He pulled harder. A million needles suddenly attacked his limb. He winced audibly. He was awake now, alright. He tried to sit up again but the blanket had tangled itself around his legs. He fell face first, only catching himself at the last minute with his functioning arm. The whole time he kept letting out small cries of pain as the blood rushed back to his extremity.

"Oh boy. What do we have here?"

The young man's head snapped up. Sanosuke leaned nonchalantly in the doorframe, a fat grin on his face. Caught between embarrassment and anger, Kenji averted his gaze. He got to his feet and started tidying up. He clenched and unclenched his fist, its strength trickling back.

"It's not for everyone."

"What?"asked Kenji, distractedly as he slipped on his hakama.

"Sleeping like that.

Kenji felt the heat across his face. Instead of teasing the boy, Sanosuke grew more somber.

"Kenshin was pretty good at it. Of course it's not something you'd want to be able to brag about. Not in this day an age, anyway"

Kenji stared at him.

"Why is that?"

"Because it means you're not really sleeping. You stay alert, ready to jump up fully awake at the first sign of trouble."

He'd never really thought about this. He'd always assume it had been another of his father's strange habits. He couldn't even remember what had pushed him to sleep that way the previous night.

"Can you sleep like that?" he asked his companion.

Sanosuke shrugged.

"I used to, when I wasn't completely drunk, that is."

"Why?"

"Why, what? Why I got drunk? Well…"

Kenji shook his head.

"Why did you need to sleep like that? You were a child during the bakumatsu, surely there were no direct threats on your life, even as a member of the Sekihoutai. So this must be from later in your life, no?"

Sanosuke stared at him for a few seconds. He felt the the box where he'd stored all the painful memories of his past shift in his mind. He hesitated a moment, about to lift the lid then wizened up.

"Is this a roundabout way to get information about your father?"

Kenji gave a fox's smile.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Sanosuke squinted at the young man then broke into wholehearted laughter.

"Come. I've been awake since dawn. This house is amazing. Plus something smells delicious."

Breakfast felt like nothing short of a feast. Kenji especially enjoyed the fish and eggs, while Sanosuke just couldn't get enough of the toast and jelly. This meal turned out to be the first stop on a four days journey that would take the pair and their host on an extensive London adventure. Fersen took them to the British Museum where Kenji spent over six hours, reading every explanation, contemplating every exhibit. They visited the tower of London, where Sanosuke marvelled at the torture chambers and Kenji studied the different swords on display. They dined at Benekey's, Pagani's and the Cafe Royal, Kenji and Sanosuke trading their Japanese clothes for the latest in English fashion. Piccadilly, Oxford street, Belgrave square, St Paul's, Westminster Abbey, the Crystal Palace… The names came and went, each with their fascinating oddity. For the young boy, it felt both exhilarating and dizzying. All this ritzy novelty was exciting, but he also longed for the quiet of Kyoto's mountains, and for the green scent of the Japanese forest. He found the swarming crowds oppressing and the noise aggravating to the point where he often ended the day with a headache. Sanosuke, on the other hand, appeared to be having the time of his life, enjoying everything with relish and abandon. He'd even let himself be convinced to allow Fersen's barber to cut his hair in the London fashion and now styled it with pomade, smoothly parting it on the side. He'd also had his beard trimmed, leaving only an elegant mustache and neatly clipped muttonchops. It made him look completely ridiculous in his Japanese clothes, but even Kenji had to admit he looked rather stylish in his frock coat, shirt and trousers. As for himself, the young man had resisted any attempt at getting him to change his hairstyle. As for sartorial concerns, he tolerated the foreign clothes out of necessity, but found them stuffy and itchy. He stuck to his Japanese garments most of the time.

They'd been in London for a week when the skies finally cleared up and the early May sun shone in a bright blue sky. Fersen had decided to take Sanosuke to a proper pub to introduce him to the pleasures of beer. The two of them had hit it off so completely that even Ai had been surprised: she'd never seen her husband, usually a shy man, forge a friendship so quickly. Then again, Fersen had grown up in Japan and seemed to find it difficult to fit in with his Dutch peers, let alone the English ones. As for Kenji, he was glad to see Sanosuke enjoy himself so much; the gloom of their time on the ship seemed to have been lifted.

Having been left behind, Ai and Kenji had headed out to Hyde park to enjoy one of the capital's rare clear days. The couple had walked down the several shaded paths in quiet contemplation before heading for the Serpentine. There a maid would eventually meet up with them with a basket and serve them a light collation.

Kenji's geta crunched the gravel of the path with each step, a sharp contrast to the soft swishing of Ai's silk dress. She had hooked her arm with his and he could feel her warmth through the fabric of his hakamashita. Despite all the time they'd spent together in the last few days, she still felt like a stranger. He wanted to ask her so many things, yet as soon as they found themselves alone, his mind turned blank. Maybe she'd sensed this and this was the reason she'd made sure they were never alone. Until now.

They came to a bench in the shade of an ancient elm tree and sat down. Their silence was filled with the sound of birds and other visitors. Children waded in the water under the supervision of matronly nannies. In the distance, swans glided in and out of the arches of the Serpentine bridge.

"Have you enjoyed London so far?" asked Ai.

"Very much. Especially the British Museum," replied Kenji.

"I'm glad. Fersen thought we might both need a bit of busy time after my blunder of the first night." She smiled. "I'm afraid I'm rather blunt, and you're rather reserved."

"I'm sorry." He looked down at his hand.

She shook her head

"No need to be. But I would rather we be friend than strangers. And if you may allow it, I wish we could be siblings in the real sense, not just by the caprices of faith. Is my request reasonable?"

He looked at her. She smiled softly but her eyes betrayed apprehension. Behind all her chatter and good humour hid a strong desire to bridge the gap between them. Was it possible that, in her own way, she'd been feeling as lost as him? He took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts.

"The last year has been the most trying of my entire life. My mother and my father passed away, I discovered my father had left me a considerable sum of money (of which I will need to talk to you about later,) and I found out that I had a…" The word stuck in his throat but he pushed on. "That I had a sister. I would like very much to be friends with you, and more if we can. But I don't know where to start."

He exhaled, the tension leaving his body.

"It is maybe unfair that I know so much about you and you know very little about me. My…" She shook her head and corrected herself. "Our father wrote to my mother and me. He told us you. But maybe I should start with the beginning."

Ai told Kenji about her childhood in Dejima and how her twin had passed away in infancy.

"Sometimes I wake up and I forget Hikaru's gone. Even after all those year, I can still feel a connection. I haven't seen for over 20 years , yet I can still see his face in my mind as clear as the last time I saw him."

"You miss him," said Kenji, a statement rather than a question.

She turned to face him.

"Very much. Isn't it strange? I've never been bothered by my blindness. I guess I just spent so much more time with it than without. But having you here, I would give all I own to see your face. To see if you look like him, or like me."

Her wistful tone broke Kenji's heart.

"I have only seen picture of Hikaru as a child. My… Our father had a few. And of course he looked very much like you. Assuming the ressemblance hadn't faded with age, then I can tell you that he and I would probably look very much alike. There is no denying that you and I share the same father."

Ai beamed, and for the first time, Kenji didn't feel the usual resentment towards his own features for being so much like his father's.

"This is rather forward, but could I touch your face?"

Kenji agreed.

Ai took off her gloves and folded them neatly in her lap. Then, she gingerly rose her hands. The young man gently took her wrists to guide her to his face. With her fingertips, she explore his brow, following down his temples to his cheek bones. She went back and forth a few times between her own face and his.

"Your nose is different," she observed.

"I have my mother's. Our mouths are different, too. I have our father's, but you don't."

She nodded.

"Yes. Thank you for allowing me to do this."

She rested her hands back down. Her gloves remained on her lap.

"When I started asking questions, my mother told me that my dad had died during the Bakumatsu. As far as I knew, this was the truth; it was the version of the story everyone knew. But then, we went to Tokyo before going to the Netherland and I met him."

"You met him?!"

"Yes. He came to our Tokyo lodging to see my mother. I believe she had been to your house."

Kenji suddenly remembered a beautiful woman sitting on their engawa.

"I gave her candy."

Ai smiled.

"She told me you gave her the wrapping, too." She laughed.

He couldn't recall."

"Regardless, they both told me that he had been a friend of my father but I could tell something was off. They were both crying, although they tried really hard to hide it. And when I touched his face, I suddenly realised that he was in fact my father. He'd been alive all along."

"Were you angry?" asked Kenji, enthralled.

She tilted her head.

"I was at first, but not at him. I was furious with my mother. Why had she taken us away from him? Why had she lied? It just didn't make any sense."

Kenji stared at the pond. The sun glinted atop the ripples. He would have been so furious with Kenshin. He still was. He couldn't understand Ai's reaction.

"Didn't you resent him for abandoning you?"

She shook her head.

"No. But wait, you'll understand why. I didn't call out their lies and pretended not to know anything until we got on the ship. I bided my time until we were at sea and my mother couldn't go anywhere. I confronted her. I expected her to deny everything, to yell at me or even send me to my room like a bad child, but she didn't. She broke down in tears and apologized."

Kenji twisted his hands. He would have given anything for an apology from his father. Or even just for him to admit his fault in causing him so much pain.

"Turns out my mother and our father met during the Bakumatsu. My mother was a geisha – I know, I was surprised, too – and your father was employed by the Ishin. They were very close until our father suddenly disappeared. The conflict intensified and she assumed he had died. She never really believed and and would have kept looking had Shimabara not burnt down. On top of all that, she discovered she was pregnant. A friend helped her find a position in Fersen's father's household on Dejima. Our father didn't know I existed, not until we moved away. He tried to find my mother when things quieted down, but they told him she had died in the fire. My mother started looking for him again once she had settled in Dejima and the war was over but it took her fifteen year to find him. If you have the pictures then you probably have the one in which I'm dressed in men's clothes. I sent that to your house and included our address in the Netherland. It was a gamble, and a risky one at that, because I had to trust that Fersen wouldn't betray me to my mother. Bless his soul he didn't."

Kenji wash shocked. He simply couldn't imagine his father having loved any other woman than his mother. Despite all his faults, even the young man had seen that Kenshin had been completely devoted to Kaoru. Part of him wanted to believe that he had kept his other family secret because of that devotion.

"And so started our epistolary relationship. It involved my mother, of course, as I can't read," she laughed. "I think I can hear Pien coming with our basket," she said.

Kenji looked around. Sure enough, a young woman he'd seen around the house was making her way towards them. Ai got up.

"Now you have my side of the story. I'll wait for yours. Shall we go and meet up with our delicious collation, my friend?" She stretched out her hand. He smiled and took it.

"Yes. Let's."


	17. Chapter 17

_**Chapter 17**_

 _Pains of caring_

After their light meal, Ai, Kenji and Pien hailed a hansom cab. On the way home, the young man finally had the presence of mind to her the questions that should have been the first ones. He learned that Iribe Yumiko spent most of her time at Penningcox Park in Yorkshire. She had enjoyed the house in Amsterdam but simply couldn't put up with the filthiness of industrial London. As for why they'd moved to England, not long after the death of Fersen's father – from whom he'd inherited the textile business that had made the family fortune – the Van de Meer had inherited the English estate from a distant relative. Fersen had not even known of this estranged part of his family and had been very surprised upon hearing that his great uncle had died in Egypt and that he'd been the sole heir to his fortune. They'd entrusted the textile business to Fersen's cousin in Amsterdam and moved to Britain. At first her husband had still maintained a semblance of medical practice in London but it had soon proven to be more trouble than to live off the inheritance. And so they now went between London and Yorkshire, with the occasional trip to Amsterdam. Ai informed Kenji that they would all be heading to Penningcox in a few days time, for the summer months in London were incredibly unpleasant. As the topic was on money, Kenji took the opportunity to inform Ai of the trust fund Kenshin had left them.

"I brought the documents with me. Father's lawyer was actually delighted that I would get to meet you in person. There are some legal conditions but I think everything is in order. The figures are quite impressive, then again they might not be much to you considering your present situation."

"I think you'll want to discuss this with my mother; she takes care of all the finances. I'm afraid Fersen and I are quite terrible at managing," she explained.

Kenji nodded then looked outside.

"Does it upset you?" she asked.

"That he left you money?" inquired the young man.

She nodded. His first reflex was to lie. However, he was slowly warming up to the woman and so he decided against it.

"It shocked me at first. He kept all of this secret, including you. And since I learned of your existence at the same time as of the existence of the money, the revelation that I had a sister shocked me considerably more."

"I'm really sorry he didn't tell you. I really wanted to write to you but Mother forbid me to do so."

"Don't be sorry. He put a gag on everyone. No one is allowed to tell me anything about his past. Sanosuke and Tsubame… You know of Tusbame? Yes, Yahiko's wife. So both Sanosuke and Tsubame told me things they weren't supposed to, but that was after our father had passed away. I feel like I'm still missing a big part of the picture."

"To be entirely honest, I have a strong feeling my mother is also keeping things from me when it comes to our father and their past."

Kenji was surprised.

"Does it upset you?" he asked.

She shrugged.

"No. Even if I knew everything about him, it would not change my past. I presume there are things that are too painful for my mother to share with me. And I believe our father must have felt the same, considering the times he lived in. I wouldn't want them to have to relive that hurt. I was lucky enough to know him and build a lasting relationship with him, even if at a distance. Considering I thought him dead for most of my life, I would say things turned out pretty well."

She paused.

"But I can tell that it does upset you."

Kenji took a moment to consider Ai's words. He'd rarely – if ever – thought of his father's feelings; his focus had been on his and his mother's. And yet, his father's suffering had been there for him to see despite Kenshin's best attempts at hiding it. The idea sat uncomfortably with him and he could tell he would not be rid of it anytime soon.

"You asked if it upsets me, that he left you money," he said. "It did at first. Not because of the money itself – I had no idea it existed – but because it was more secrets to add to the list."

He felt his chest tighten. Ai put her hand on his knee. He didn't flinch; he was getting used to her unusual habit.

"I really hope you will find it in your heart to forgive him. Without him, you wouldn't be here with me, and for that reason alone, I love him even more."

 _Love_. Kenji had never even asked himself if he loved the man. He didn't get the time now either. The cab came to a halt.

"We're here."

xxxxx

Ai and Kenji sat in the front room. Most of the staff had retired, leaving the pair chatting in the semi-darkness of the dancing flames. The pair was exchanging notes on sea travel when, suddenly, the front door banged open. Ai jumped. Instinctively, Kenji placed himself between his host and the door. Their fears were immediately dispelled when they heard the joyful voices of Sanosuke and Fersen, slurring what must have been a drinking song. The two men clambered down the hallway and erupted in the room.

"Good evening, Good evening!" said Sanosuke with a heavily accented English. Fersen laughed. The Japanese man's face was bruised and he had a bad cut on his lower lip and his left brow bone. Some blood was drying on his collar. Kenj's gaze went from his friend's face to the Dutchman's. The latter, seeing the concern in Kenji's face, raise his index finger to his lips and shook his head.

"Seems the beer was more than good." came Ai's voice behind the young man. He turned to look at her. Instead of concern, her face showed mild amusement.

Sanosuke and Fersen talked at the same time. Ai raised her hand.

"You two aren't making much sense. Up to bed you go. Come on!" she chastised them like one would misbehaving children.

Fersen circled his friend's shoulders and the two of them turned around, bumping in the doorframe a few times before making their sloppy way up the stairs. A loud thump was heard followed by a swear and some laughter. Finally, a door slammed shut, shortly followed by another. They listened a moment as the ceiling creaked. Then the house grew silent anew.

Ai sighed and shook her head, gathering her skirts to make her way upstairs as well.

"Better get myself to sleep, too."

Kenji stared at her in disbelief.

"Aren't you angry at Fersen?" he asked.

She smiled at him.

"Oh yes. Believe me, I'm no fan of his antics. Mind you, this used to happen a whole lot more in Amsterdam. He doesn't have many friends, but the few he has are like brothers. Seems like Sanosuke's name will be added to the short list."

Incredulous, Kenji stared at her.

"Sanosuke was bleeding," he blurted.

She frowned.

"I could sense something was amiss. Too much silence. They must have gotten into a brawl. Happens all the time with drunken men. Don't pain yourself too much with it; Fersen will patch him up nicely tomorrow."

Kenji shook his head, unable to let it go.

"But surely you must be worried!"

She shrugged.

"Of course I am, Kenji. But I'm his wife, not his mother. I can't prevent him from doing anything. I'm sure our father did things your mother worried about and yet she allowed him to do them out of love for him. I don't enjoy this. Fersen is going to snore all night and I probably won't get much sleep. Tomorrow morning, he'll be miserable and I'll have to nurse him. I don't want this, but there it is. I take consolation in knowing that right now, he's happy as can be. He's just spent the night with a friend and regardless of what terrible shenanigans they got up to, they are safe and sound under our roof. That's what matters the most to me. I'm not perfect; how could I expect him to be? Now if you'll excuse me, this is going to be a short night. I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well, brother."

She smiled at him and walked passed, heading for her room.

 _Kenji stood against the engawa pillar, hidden in the darkness. He'd had a bad dream and had hoped to join his parents in their futon. He hadn't expected to find them awake. In their room, his father and his mother were sitting by the light of a lantern. He could see their silhouettes against the paper of the shoji._

" _Do you really have to leave?"_

 _His mother's voice sounded tired, defeated._

" _Yes, I'm sorry. You know I would rather stay here. But it's what's best for you and Kenji."_

 _Silence._

" _Where will you go this time?"_

" _I don't know."_

" _You can't tell me…" her voice was soft._

 _He saw his father's shadowy hand reach for his mother's._

" _Kaoru-dono, I'm sorry."_

 _She brought his hand to her face, to kiss it presumably. Then she shook her head._

" _It's alright, Kenshin. I know this is important for you."_

Kenji woke up. From the other rooms, he could hear the sound of snoring. His heart went out to Ai who probably lied awake, unable to a moment of quiet to fall asleep. He pushed the covers off and walked to the window. He rested his hands on his lower back and stretched; this bed was going to kill him. He looked outside but couldn't see anything. A heavy fog had descended on the city. He sat on the window sill, his back to the outside world. No doubt this dream had been triggered by his conversation with Ai. It was but one of the many iterations of that conversation he'd heard his parents have. Sometimes his mother had been more vocal, especially in the later years, just before Kenji had left for Kyoto. But it always ended up like that. Kaoru would always relent and give Kenshin her blessings, just like Ai with her husband. Yet he felt like the conversation in his dream had been special. He just couldn't put a finger on it. He sighed and looked at his bed. The floor would do nicely.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Chapter 18**_

 _ **Of Stories and Legacies**_

Rain poured down the side of the cab. The muddy road had turned into a quagmire and significantly slowed their advance. What should have been a two hour trip had turned into four, and counting. Sanosuke, true to himself, had fallen asleep like a baby being rocked. Ai and Fersen chatted amongst themselves in Dutch, their excitement seeming to increase as their destination grew closer. As for Kenji, he sat with his fists clenched, trying to ignore the nausea that gripped him, fearing he'd spill the contents of his stomach every time the vehicle lurched. The train ride from London to York had been pleasant enough and he'd enjoy the lush scenery on the way. The air, although still laden with the smell of burning coal, had been significantly cleaner and devoid of the characteristic London cloying stench he had grown accustomed to. He looked forward to the green spaces of the estate Ai had described but for the moment, he just wanted to be off this damned cab.

As if on cue, the carriage came to a halt. Sanosuke stirred in his sleep and mumbled some gibberish. Kenji looked out the window but couldn't see anything but a wet green blur.

"We're at the gate," explained Fersen.

"How much farther?" asked Kenji in a wisp of a voice.

"Not much," answered Ai.

"I will walk the rest of the way, then," declared Kenji, his hand already on the door handle.

"In this weather? Don't be foolish," said his host.

Kenji cracked the door open.

"I will either walk or be sick in the cab," he explained.

"Right. Fersen, will you ask William for an umbrella? I'll join Kenji." said Ai.

"Ai, surely you don't…" began Fersen.

"Umbrella," interrupted Ai.

Fersen sighed, defeated, and knocked on the side of the cab. Moments later William, the driver, opened the door. His overcoat and hat dripped on the floor of the carriage.

"Yes, sir?"

"Could you please fetch an umbrella?"

The man nodded and closed the door. He came back a moment later.

"Thank you, William. Kenji and I will continue on foot."

The driver's eyes went from Ai to Fersen, unsure. When the latter shook his head, his eyes went back to Ai.

"Should I ask your ladyship's maid to prepare a warm bath?"

Ai smiled.

"Make that two."

xxxx

The carriage on its way to the house, Ai and Kenji closed the gate then started their walk. Ai hooked her arm around his, joining him under the protection of the umbrella. Luckily, the path was made of small size gravel, easing their efforts. Kenji, although dressed in his Japanese clothes, had traded his geta for sturdy leather boots. Uncomfortable at first, he was glad to be wearing them now.

"How is your stomach?"

"Still churning," admitted the young man.

She laughed.

"And yet you were fine on the ship."

He shrugged.

"Not the same, I guess."

They walked in silence for a moment, the rain falling hard around them. He had imagined the house would be surrounded by a thick forest and was surprised to see nothing but rolling hills of grass with the occasional stone wall.

"It's very flat and empty," he commented.

She nodded.

"The villagers say there use to be a royal forest here, a long time ago, but it was cut down to make land for grazing sheep. We have gardens around the house, and ancient trees, too. We've also planted a few last year"

They went on walking quietly for a while. He could see an imposing grey building in the distance.

"Since we're away from everyone, why don't you tell me your story," she said.

He thought for a moment, gathering his memories.

"I was born, I grew up, I went to school… I guess you could say it was pretty normal, if only from the outside. My mother took care of me most of the time because our father was away, more and more so as I got older. I learned my mother's fighting style with Yahiko and soon surpassed him. I wanted to know more so I figured out the name of my father's fighting style and went to Kyoto to seek his master."

"What did he say about that?"

"He was against it. We got into a very heated argument. I was twelve and of my entire life he had never yelled at me. Until then. I had never seen him so upset at me. He told me this thing about swords being weapons, and the way of the sword being the way to kill."

"However you dress it up in righteousness, killing is its truth," finished Ai.

He stared at her, taken aback.

"Yes, those were his exact words… How do you…?"

"He wrote it in a letter, in response to one of my questions about his life yielding a sword."

"I see."

The sound of their feet on the gravel filled the air.

"Do you agree?" she asked.

"I have never killed anyone, and yet I know how to fight. Does it mean I am not a swordsman?"

"When comes the time, will you be able to kill your master to obtain the ougi?" she asked, softly.

He hesitated.

"I have never really thought about it…" he confessed.

His father hadn't killed Hiko Seijuro only because he'd been yielding the sakabato. Kenji had no intention of switching to the reversed blade.

They remained silent for a while. The house grew taller. Ai shivered. Kenji took off his haori and placed it on Ai's shoulders. She protested but he insisted.

"So what happened next," she asked.

"I waited until his next leave and fled to Kyoto in the middle of the night. My mother wasn't too happy about it either. I'm sorry about that now. I broke her heart, no doubt. Once in Kyoto, I focused on nothing but the sword. Hiko Seijuro is a tough shisho, but he gave me stability. I knew each night what the next day would bring. I thrived and would probably still be there had my parents not died."

"There is no way this will sound good, but I'm glad those sad circumstances brought us together. Silver lining, I guess we could say," she commented.

He pinched his lips and exhaled loudly through his nose.

"Sorry. That was out of line," she apologised.

"No, no. I was trying to find the best way to respond. To be honest, despite the pain and the oddness, I think I'm also happy to be here. I am happy to know you."

She beamed.

"These are the kindest words you've said to me so far. I shall cherish them always."

She squeezed his arm with hers. He gave her a furtive sidelong glance. She was truly beautiful when she smiled.

Inspired, he decided to confide in her more.

"I have very little memories of my early childhood. It's as if something has locked them all away where I can't reach. But since my parents' deaths, things are coming to the surface, most often than not as dreams."

He told her of the dream about the storm, the one about Kenshin and Sanosuke's fight and lastly of the conversation between his parents.

"I feel as though something important happened. I can't quite say what, but I feel like... Like it made everything different. I'm sorry, this is rather silly."

She shook her head.

"Not at all. Let's hope you will remember more. Please tell me all about it when you do. Are we close? I think I hear the horses."

He looked up. They were a few paces away from the carriage, now being unloaded by two young men in liveries. He looked up and the sheer size of the house dizzied him. It was almost as big as the court house in Tokyo.

"How many people live here?!"

She laughed.

"Just our little family. Let's get in, we have a surprise for you."

Kenji and Ai walked up the stairs and stepped into the warm entrance. An older man in a livery took the umbrella and Kenji's haori. Kenji bent to take off his shoes but Ai prevented him from doing so. He wiped them as best he could.

"Welcome home, mylady. The baths are ready for you and your guest. Shall I ask Jack to lead him to his quarters or will you be joining mylord in the drawing room first?"

"Thank you, George. We will be going the drawing room first."

She tugged on Kenji's arm who, distracted by all the finery, stood agape.

"Come, they await you." Her excitement was palpable.

They crossed the hall. Kenji was torn between his amazement at the refinement of the house and the horror of his wet footsteps on the plush carpet. They got to a dark wooden door which was probably worth more than he could imagine. Ai grabbed his hand and squeezed it. She smiled ear to ear, giddy.

"Ready?"

Without waiting, she pushed the door open. They stepped in.

At first, Kenji thought the room itself was the surprise. The size of the windows, the gilded furniture, the paintings, everything was so opulent it stole his breath away. Then he noticed the occupants. Fersen sat on a fauteuil and smiled at him. On the floor, walking on all four, Sanosuke was giving a ride to two small boys with strawberry blonde hair. Nearby, an older little girl egged them on, clapping her hands with delight. Her hair was a bright shade of copper and framed her face with soft curls. She noticed the newcomers and ran to them.

"Mama!"

She flung her arms around Ai's waist and hugged her before taking a step back. She inspected Kenji from head to toe.

"Is this him? Is this uncle Kenji?" she asked in Japanese.

Ai nodded. The girl clapped her hands with glee and exclaimed something in Dutch. Then, remembering her manners, she curtsied at Kenji.

"How do you do?" she asked in English

"How do you do?" he stammered back.

She gracefully offered her hand. He took it and tried to shake it.

"You're supposed to kiss it!" she laughed.

He gave her hand an awkward peck and turned to Ai.

"Are they…?"

She gave him her warmest smile. By then, the two boys had joined them and were hugging their mother yet glancing at him curiously. She petted their hair affectionately.

"They're your nephews and your niece."


	19. Chapter 19

_**Chapter 19**_

 _ **Sons and daughters**_

Kenji had done his best to take the tide of new information in strides. Although he'd broken at his father's funeral and at Megumi's place, he'd worked without respite to keep an objective outlook on the situation and to keep his anger at bay. However, there was only so much more he could take. He clenched his fists and stood upright, trying to maintain the facade for the children. His body shook. He felt lightheaded. Ai, distracted by her children and her joy at introducing them to her brother, didn't perceive the change in Kenji; Fersen and Sanosuke immediately saw it. Quickly, the former walked up to the door to take care of his wife and children while the latter moved to Kenji's side.

"I got you," whispered Sanosuke, discretely grabbing on Kenji's elbow to prevent him from slumping down.

"Darling, poor Kenji is shaking from the cold," said Fersen. He rang a bell. The butler entered the room and the Dutchman quickly gave instructions to take their guest to his room. Ai apologised, unaware of Kenji's indisposition.

Following a manservant, and supported by Sanosuke, Kenji made it up the stairs and through hallways he would later have no recollection of. Once they reached his room, the manservant instructed Sanosuke on how to ring for service before taking his leave. The tall man pulled the chair from the dressing table and sat Kenji on it. He took a quick glance at the room and noticed a clawfoot tub partially dissimulated by a screen. He looked at Kenji. Colour had left his face and he stared blindly ahead.

"Ok, let's get you in there, shall we?"

Sanosuke carefully undressed Kenji. The young man, in a catatonic state, let himself be handled like a rag doll. Sanosuke scooped up his companion and eased him down into the water. Colour immediately flushed his cheeks but he didn't speak. Sanosuke grabbed a sponge and soap.

"It's just like when you were little." He lifted Kenji's arm and lathered it. "Except there was less to wash back then." His joke fell flat. He stared at the boy's soapy arm and shook his head.

"These English people have a weird idea when it comes to baths don't you think?" he asked, trying to engage Kenji. "How are you supposed to get cleaner by sitting in your own filth?"

He clicked his tongue and lowered kenji's arm in the water. Kenji didn't flinch. Sanosuke continued to wash Kenji, focusing on his upper body, hoping that the friction would bring his young friend back to his senses. Despite his focus, he couldn't help but feel fear ripple below the surface. What if this was the final straw? In his mind, images of his last meeting with an addled Kenshin played on a loop.

Done with his washing, and faced with the impracticality of having to submerge himself to wash Kenji's lower body, Sanosuke decided to take care of Kenji's head. Gently, he undid the tie and let the young man's hair flow down the side of the tub. He looked around and found a comb on the dresser. Slowly, he brushed the red hair. With patience, he undid every knot, every tangle. It took him back to his childhood. His sister always had him brush her hair at night, insisting that he was the only one who did it properly. He'd always found the activity calming, almost meditative. Not that he'd told this to anyone, especially Megumi, of all people. Her wouldn't have minded brushing her hair, however.

"Children."

A whisper. Sanosuke, woken from his reverie, lifted his head, hands suspended mid task. He crouched to the side of the tub. Kenji's gaze remained static.

"She has children."

Fat tears escaped his eyes, a disturbed sight when combined with his blank expression. He gripped the sides of the tub.

"Sanosuke."

His voice was soft and low. Sanosuke shivered. Kenshin spoke through the boy.

"Yes?" he managed.

Kenji finally turned to face him. On the water, the red hair darkened as it sank under.

"Can we go back home?"

xxxxxx

" _I don't want to!" Kenji stomped his feet._

" _Kenji, listen to Okan. You have to take a bath," said a young Kaoru._

" _NO! I want Oton!" He cried._

 _Yahiko tried to take his hand._

" _I'll go with you, ok? We can take the toy ship with us."_

 _Kenji swatted Yahiko and stamped his feet again._

" _NooooooOOO! Otoooon! I want Oton!"_

 _Kaoru sighed._

" _Kenji, if you don't go with Yahiko you will go to bed without dinner."_

 _Kenji wailed._

" _What's going on here?" asked a manly voice._

 _The trio turned to see Sanosuke and Megumi walk into the courtyard._

" _Kenji is not getting any dinner because he won't take a bath," stated Kaoru for her son's benefit._

" _Oh, that' too bad," said Megumi. "I brought strawberries. I guess Sanosuke will eat yours then. Such a pity."_

 _Kenji's lower lip quivered. His eyes went from his mother, to Sanosuke._

" _That's really too bad. I wanted to take a bath but I'm afraid to go alone," said Sanosuke. "If only someone could take a bath with me, maybe I would share my strawberries with them."_

 _Kenji hesitated a moment then ran to Sanosuke who picked him up. The toddler immediately snuggled his head in the crook of the giant's neck. Kaoru, close to tears, mouthed the words thank you._

" _Is he still...?" asked Megumi._

 _Yahiko nodded._

" _I'll see what I can do…" said the doctor. She walked towards the dojo._

" _Come on little man. The ofuro await!" said Sanosuke in as joyful a tone as he could muster._

The scene blurred and shifted

 _Kenji held his mother's hand. They both stood outside the gate. In front of them, in full travel attire, stood his father._

" _Now Ken-chan, Oton is going on a very important trip. Will you be a good boy?"_

 _Kenji nodded._

" _Will you take good care of Okan and listen to what she tells you?"_

 _He nodded again._

" _You're a big boy now, just like Yahiko."_

" _When are you coming back?" asked the boy._

 _Kenshin hesitated a moment._

" _Soon."_

" _You promise?"_

 _Kenshin forced a smile._

" _I promised."_

 _Kenji extended his pinky towards his father. Kenshin's joyful expression wavered for a moment. He quickly recovered. He crouched down and hooked his pinky to his son's. Then, he embraced Kenji. He held the boy close and tight to his chest, he caressed his hair and kissed the top of his head. Kenji spoke his his father's chest._

" _I love you, Oton."_

Kenji opened his eyes. The world around him was a blur. Light hurt his eyes. His head pounded. His mouth was parched and his bedding stuck to his clammy body. He tried to move but set the room spinning. He closed his eyes and moaned. He felt a large, cool hand on his forehead. A cup touched his lips. He drank as best he could, coughing up every other sip. He heard words but they made no sense. The darkness crept on him anew. He slipped under.

" _Why can't I go to Kyoto?" yelled a twelve year old Kenji._

 _Kenshin sat on the engawa._

" _Because you don't need to learn my style. Kamiya Kashin Ryu is enough."_

" _I've learned every technique! I'm stronger, faster and better than Yahiko. I can't stagnate forever."_

" _Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu is not a sport. To it,swords are weapons. They way of the sword is the way to kill. However you dress it up in righteousness killing will be your truth."_

 _Kenji clenched his fists._

" _You don't kill. Why can't I do the same?"_

 _Kenshin got up._

" _Enough!" Kenji froze. His father had never risen his voice to him before._

" _You will stay here and go to school. You'll take care of your mother and be a dutiful son."_

" _You're such a hypocrite! Why don't_ you _stay and take care of her? I hate you so much!"_

Kenji opened his eyes. He stared at the wooden ceiling for a while. The green scent of tatami, the soft whisper of the wind against the shoji… He was home. Comforted, he closed his eyes anew. He was on the cusp of sleep when his brain kicked in. He sat up abruptly and looked around. This room was undeniably Japanese. Tokonoma, irori, tansu, byobu… They were all there. He looked down; he wore a silk naka-juban and was comfortably sitting in a futon. Where the Hell was he?

The shoji slid sideways. He sheltered his eyes from the sun.

"You're awake. Good," said a voice he didn't know.

The shoji closed and he saw a kimono clad middle aged Japanese woman take off her shoes and climb up to sit next to him. She fiddled with the ambers in the irori.

"Are you comfortable?"

He nodded.

"Good. I'm Iribe Yumiko. Ai's mother. It is nice to meet you at last."

"Where are we?" asked Kenji, unsure if he was awake or in some other dream of his.

"We're still at Penningcox Park. This is my house. I had it built when Fersen inherited the property. Ai loves her mansions, but this suits me better. Everything has been imported from Japan, even the inoki of the ofuro. I have a kamado as well. But I did compromise and got plumbing in. Running water and toilets are rather nice, don't you think?"

She smiled at him gently.

"Is Sanosuke here, too?"

She shook her head.

"He's back at the house. He wouldn't leave your side, despite Fersen being more than qualified as a doctor to treat you. We gave him a sedative so he would sleep. He'll be awake by now."

"What happened to me?"

"I think the fatigue of the trip combined with the shock of learning about the children completely drained you. I did warn Ai about this. You ran a high fever for two days. Once you were out of danger I asked to bring you here, so you'd wake up in more familiar surroundings. I didn't want to go through your trunk so this garment is mine. I hope it doesn't upset you."

He looked around anew. This was an older building style than his house, but it was close enough to his shisho's hutt - minus the clutter - to feel like home. He shook his head.

"Thank you. I needed this. Now if I could only get a Japanese meal, I would be in heaven."

Yumiko smiled. Crinkles formed at the corners of her eyes.

"I've asked my cook to be on the ready. If you can wait a little bit more I'll have some delicious delight for you."

He felt so happy he could have cried. They sat quietly for a moment. He took in the smaller details of the room. The finely chiseled ranma with woodland creatures, the tansu and its delicately gilded corners… He looked at her and she let him. She knew how to be admired. There was something about her demeanor that put him at ease. It invited natural familiarity and intimacy. No doubt, these traits had helped her in her work as a geisha. He wondered if she had learned the behaviors. A dark shadow suddenly clouded his mind.

"The children. I hope I didn't scare them," he said.

She shook her head.

"Don't worry about them. They'll be fine. Why don't I go check on the food while you dress up?"

She pointed at his clean clothes, neatly folded by the futon. It felt like being back home with his mother. It was an amazing feeling.

xxxx

Kenji was adjusting the strings of his hakama when the shoji opened. He turned around, expecting Yumiko

"Baa-chan?" asked a small voice.

A small red head poked through the opening, searching. His niece froze when her eyes fell on him.

"Good morning," said the young man with his best smile.

She stayed in the doorframe and gave him a furtive curtsy. She then stood there, biting her lower lip.

"Your grandmother is in the kitchen. Do you want to wait for her with me?"

She shifted her weight from one foot to another. Kenji walked to to edge of the raised floor and sat down. He patted the tatami next to him. The girl stepped inside but left the door open.

"What is your name?"

"Emily," whispered the child.

"How old are you?"

"Eleven."

She was a mere 5 years younger than he was yet she looked nothing like he had at that age. She was so small and delicate. She looked like she ought to: like a child.

"Are you better now?"

"Much better. See?" He flexed his arms. Her lower lip quivered.

"Icarus and Kenneth said you were dying."

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"They said I did this to you. They said I'm so ugly I scared you to death."

Her face crumpled but she fought hard to maintain her composure. He admired her pride. Kenji got up and crouched in front of her. He felt his heart swell with love for his niece. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. Her little chest heaved with each sob she fought. He took her hands in his.

"Your father is a good doctor. I'm not dying. I promise."

He tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

"Icarus and Kenneth are liars. You are very beautiful, just like your mother. You and I shall be very good friends. Let's make them jealous, shall we?"

She looked up, her gray eyes filled with hope. He smiled. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. Surprised, he almost lost balance. Without thinking, he hugged her back. In this moment, nothing else mattered but this little girl's happiness.


	20. Chapter 20

_**Chapter 20**_

 _ **A life borrowed**_

The sky continued to pour its lazy grey drizzle on the Yorkshire countryside for another week. This allowed Kenji and Sanosuke to get used to life on the estate. Under the guidance of the children, the newcomers were shown every interesting corners of the mansion – including Icarus and Kenneth's favourite spot: the closet where mice pooped. Kenji soon discovered that the great hall was the perfect place to practice kenjutsu indoors and Sanosuke had soon befriended everyone downstairs, despite barely being able to exchange a full sentence with them. Emily proved to be a much more reserved girl than expected and soon turned into Kenji's quiet companion whenever she was done with her tutoring. She shadowed him as he practiced (instinctively, he made sure that she only witnessed his mother's style,) and they took long walks in the mansion during which she asked him everything about his life in Japan and her grandfather. He found himself redacting and embellishing his answers, the irony of which did not escape him. As for the boys, they seemed to prefer the rambunctious company of Sanosuke and chased the tall man across the house to the despair of their nanny.

After a few nights he spent in Yumiko's house, the woman requested that Kenji's trunk be moved to her residence. It was obvious that the young man, just like his father before him, had a marked preference for traditional Japanese everything. She enjoyed his company as he reminder her both of Kenshin and of Hikaru, or at least, of what her son could have grown up to be. Sanosuke remained in the mansion, taking to this rich foreign life quite with ease, now rarely wearing his Japanese clothes. Ai and Fersen went about the business of the house, spending most of their evenings in their own spaces, she in the drawing room with her lady's maid, and the children for a while, and him in the library in the company of Sanosuke. Cigars and scotch became their little routine. Kenji took turns spending time with them all but inevitably gravitated towards Yumiko's house, with whom he could spend quiet evenings.

On one such night, the rain having finally ceased and the moon peeking through the clouds, Yumiko opened the shoji and they both sat on the engawa, wrapping themselves in thick woolen blankets. By the irori, Emily had fallen asleep in Kenji's futon, he little hands clutching a ragged doll to her chest.

"I wish I'd known about the children. We could have brought them presents," said Kenji.

He took a sip of tea. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the beverage irradiating through his body.

"They have more than anyone could ever want or need. Your presence is the best gift," Yumiko replied.

He stared in the distance. He thought he saw lights over the hill. A farmer's homestead maybe? He would have to explore the grounds when the sun finally showed up. He sighed with contentment. This was good. Relaxed, he decided to probe Yumiko.

"How long have the children known about me?" he asked.

"Their entire life. We never hid your or your father's existence. However I don't think they truly understood until you finally appeared here. Especially the boys."

"My father…" started Kenji.

She turned to him, patient.

"He knew of them, too. That's why he took money out of the trust fund twice. Once for Emily, and double that amount for Icarus and Kenneth," he said.

Yumiko nodded.

"That's correct. He sent it when they were born. We haven't touched it. Obviously, they don't need it right now. Hopefully they can make good use of it when they get older," she said with a quick glance to her granddaughter.

"He left Ai some money as well," added Kenji.

"Yes. I figured he would. To be transferred with your agreement, I suppose?"

Kenji gave her a small account of his encounter with Kenshin's lawyer.

"I agree completely to the transfer. Even without meeting her, I would have agreed. I have all the paperwork with me," he ended.

He made to get up to fetch it but she put her hand on his arm.

"We can deal with this later. The night is too beautiful to talk about money."

He settled back down. She looked at him for a moment and smiled.

"I'm sure you have many questions. You've been very polite so far, not asking anyone about your father. Why don't I tell you about him? We both know this the real reason you came halfway across the earth. Or, at least, I know this is one of the reasons why I wanted to see you in person."

Kenji took a sip of tea. His hand trembled. He swallowed hard.

"Didn't he ask you to keep all of this secret?" he asked.

She leaned back and looked at the sky.

"I don't think he thought we would ever meet. And if he did, he knew better than tell me what to do or not to do."

She winked at him.

His body tensed. His heart beat faster. She patted his hand.

"Don't look so worried. I doubt I'll give you anything to give another fever," she gave him a sly smile.

He laughed nervously.

"Before we start however, let me just sit back against the wall. My leg doesn't like this change in temperature."

She shifted and leaned against the house, legs outstretched in front of her. He had noticed that she never sat in seiza for very long. She rearranged her blanket.

"There. Now come and put your head on my lap."

He stared at her. _What?_

"Come on, don't look at me like that. You've seen the kids do it. It's the perfect storytime setup."

Storytime…? He stared at her, unsure. She was dead serious. He hadn't lain in his mother's lap (or anyone else's for that matter) in years. He hesitated for a moment then shrugged; there was no harm in in. He settled his head on her leg and covered himself with the blanket with her help.

"There were are."

Feeling awkward, he closed his eyes.

"What I know, I know because your father told me. As to how I came to know I will get to that later."

She cleared her throat.

"Your father was born in a small farming village outside Kyoto. He couldn't remember the name and chances are it doesn't exist anymore. Those years were rough for farmers. While the important folks were busy quarrelling, criminals flourished. People never knew when bands of bandits or slavers might drop by and kill, rape, and pillage everything in sight. For Kenshin, however, famine and typhus were the deciding factors. Your grandparents died in an epidemic that followed a very bad harvest, or so he assumed. Because he had no relatives, your father was entrusted to the village chief. Chances are that man was in no better position. Whether he did it for selfish reasons, or whether he did it to save his own family, we'll never know, but your father was sold to slavers."

As she spoke, her right hand found his head and she started to stroke it distractedly. He flinched then relaxed. Her hands were warm and soft.

"I was also sold during this same period. Except my parents didn't die; they simply just had too many mouths to feed. My okiya purchased me when I was five. They also took one of my older sisters, Mayuko. She was a real beauty. Sadly, she ran away three years in her training, presumably with some young rich noble who made himself believe he was in love. I don't know where she ended up. Shimabara is my guess, but I never really looked for her; I knew it was futile. But I digress…"

He opened his eyes. Yumiko stared ahead, lost in memories. She sighed softly.

"So off your father went with the slavers. He was by far the youngest of the group. Some girls took pity and cared for him. He had very fond memories of them. Sadly, they were attacked by a band of bandits the very next day and they were all killed. Had it not been for your Shisho chancing upon the scene, neither of us would be here tonight."

She paused. Kenji shivered at the thought that his very existence had held in the balance years before he had even been born.

"Seijuro told your father to go to a temple nearby to seek help. He thought that would be the end of it. After all, there were many an orphan roaming the roads during the Bakumatsu. But your father had a kind soul, and so when Seijuro came by again the next day, Kenshin had dug graves for all the deceased, friends and foes. That made a great impression on your Shisho. And so he decided to take your father on as a pupil. Kenshin believed he had originally intended to let the style die out with him, which did nothing to alleviate your father's conscience. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Which makes me think; I keep calling him Kenshin, but your father was born Himura Shinta. Seijuro is the one who changed his name."

Kenji opened his eyes. _Shinta_.

"My mother called me Shinta the day before she died," he blurted out.

Yumiko nodded.

"From what I understand, Kamiya-san wanted to name you after him. But Kenshin refused. He told me your mother got very upset. I don't think she could understand the suffering associated with that name."

She took her cup with her free hand and sipped some tea. Kenji's mind raced. He had known absolutely nothing about this. In all honesty, he had never even bothered thinking about his dad's past before the war. He had been completely obsessed by his father's role within the Ishin Shishi. This was awful, yes, but it still didn't explain anything or justify the way his father had refused to tell him anything. At the same time, another part of his brain tugged at him, trying to imagine a life as someone called Shinta. He couldn't; it felt too weak.

"So your father learned Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu for ten years or so. He told me that at first, it was simply Hell. He was in constant pain and his body ached in ways he hadn't thought possible. But it was all he had. In his short life, he had seen enough of the horrors of the world to know that he would not survive on his own. So he kept going. He took the blows until he fainted, he practiced until he bled, he attacked until he collapsed. And it wasn't all bad. Seijuro isn't a cruel man. He cared for his pupil like a father for his son, albeit with tough love. And for a while, this was all Kenshin needed. But as he grew up, the world shrunk. News of the suffering outside his safe haven eventually reached him. Naive and with that good heart of his, he simply couldn't let people die when he knew he could do something about it. Or thought he could. I think Seijuro didn't realise that already, his pupil had a sense that he had a debt to pay back. From an early age, your father told me he felt like he lived on borrowed time, a feeling he would carry long after the end of the war..."

Kenji remembered his first sessions with Seijuro. He had had to prove himself to the man. He had attacked at him until he had been near collapse. _Just like your father. No. Better._ Is what his Shisho had said with a smirk. But things had been different for the young man. He had already had the agility of a skilled kenkaku by then, thanks to his mother's style. He tried to imagine a child, like Kenneth or Icarus, starting with no knowledge of the sword. It would have been grueling indeed.

"Unable to convince Seijuro of the importance of this mission, Kenshin ran away. He must have heard of one of those meets where the Ishin recruited abled bodied men for different tasks because that is where he headed. Your father stood out immediately with his superior fighting skills. He joined the kiheitai and was soon noticed by Katsura Kogoro who immediately plucked him from the ranks of the volunteer army to work for him directly."

Despite being new, this information made so much sense that it didn't come as a surprise. He knew of his father's constant yearning to save the world. It was one of the things Kenji hated the most about him. It also made sense because he knew first hand, despite never having killed, that anyone with a knowledge Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu would be a deadly weapon. The Ishin must have thought they had been blessed by the gods.

"Was he a bodyguard to Katsura?" asked Kenji.

She shook her head and looked down at him.

"That would have been a waste of his talents. No, your father was hired for something much more important. He became the youngest assassins of the Ishin. Your father became the Hitokiri Battosai."

 **NOTE**

 _Skip to 4th paragraph for tl:dr_

Until the end of WWII (and for a short period after, to alleviate the fear that the GI would rape Japanese women – a well used wartime Japanese propaganda trope,) prostitution was legal and state run in Japan. This system started under the Tokugawa's highly bureaucratic government who saw an opportunity to monetise a practice that would happen whether it was state sanctioned or not.

Shimabara was the designated red light district of Kyoto. Any prostitution deals done outside its walls were punishable by law. Geisha would have worked alongside prostitutes but their profession was strictly regulated to avoid competition, which explains why sex was not their main service. The division of labour was so strict that by the end of the Edo period, most prostitutes had no artistic knowledge to speak of.

The Tokyo equivalent of Shimabara was called Yoshiwara (Shin-Yoshiwara, to be exact, as the Moto-Yoshiwara burnt down.) If Yoshiwara has completely disappeared, it is still possible to visit Sumiya, one of the rare Edo period secular building still standing in Kyoto. Of interest to the story at hand, it was a very popular meet up location for the Shinsengumi, until they eventually got banned for running high bills and trashing the place.

All this to say that Yumiko believes her sister ended up as a prostitute, which would have been a common fate for a young female runaway; it is likely that neither her parents or her okiya would have taken her back. That being said, she would have been lucky to end up in the "system." Unlicensed prostitution would have been a much worse fate.

(Please forgive the long note, the Japanese floating world was my field of study in university. I tend to geek out hard about it.)


	21. Chapter 21

_**Chapter 21**_

 _ **Sins of the father**_

The katana sliced the cool morning air with a sharp sound.

 _The way of the sword is the way to kill._

He flinched, his form breaking. He stepped back and reset his arms above his head. He slashed down.

 _You don't kill, why can't I do the same?_

His grip loosened. He caught himself before the katana finished its arc, dangerously heading for his legs. He reset his hand on the handle and squeezed. He tried again.

 _I brought out the killer in him._

He faltered. The katana came down with barely any strength behind it. He sheathed the sword. This was futile. He wiped his brow. He sweat profusely yet he'd barely started. Each strike brought up unwelcome thoughts. Some were clear as day, other only vague recollections, barely more than feeling. His father standing alone in the courtyard. His father distraught. His father in pain, trying his best to smile.

He still reeled from Yumiko's revelations. He'd heard "hitokiri battosai" in Kyoto, but never would he have imagined that they were meant for him, his father's son if only in likeness. Sadly, if some pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place, he felt like the image he'd been working on had been but a small corner of the entire picture, and distorted to boot. His father had always advocated for peaceful resolution. He had yielded that ridiculous sakabato. How could he have been a killer? This was the complete opposite of everything he had believed in. He had wanted to ask Yumiko more questions but Emily had chosen that moment to walk out and ask her grandmother what a hitokiri was. The older woman had scrambled to her feet and invented some monster or other while walking the little girl to her own futon. Once she had returned, the moment had been broken. They'd both agreed to continue the conversation some other time and gone to bed. Of course, Kenji hadn't been able to sleep.

The young man set up for a battojutsu. He took a deep breath. He closed his eyes. Three. Two. One. His right hand reached for the katana, his left grabbed his saya. He unsheathed the sword swiftly, shifting the saya at the last minute to maximize the energy of the blow. The sword cut the air expertly, resounding sharply. He held the final stance, breathing hard into his lunge. Finally.

A sudden hand clap coming from behind him made him lose balance. He staggered forward before turning around.

"That took a while," said a young Japanese woman in a foreign dress.

"Excuse me?" asked Kenji, bewildered.

"I've been watching for a while. You missed all the other strikes before. Although I must say you've redeemed yourself with that one," she said, tongue in cheek.

Piqued, Kenji turned his back to her to sheathe his sword. Who the Hell did she think she was? And what was she doing here? The woman walked around him with a spring in her step.

"Did I upset you?"

He glared at her. Was she for real? She laughed.

"There, there. I was only joking. Ai-nee-san told me her brother was here and I just couldn't wait for you to show up at the house. I'm Sakurako."

She extended her hand.

"I'm Kenji," he mumbled, grabbing her hand and giving it a weak shake.

Sakurako walked to the engawa and sat.

"Don't mind me. This is fascinating."

Fine, he thought. Just do whatever. He turned his back on her and tried to settle his mind back into the practice. But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't do it. He turned around again hoping to convince her to go away. At the same moment, Yumiko opened the shoji.

"Ara,Sakura-chan. When did you get here?"

"Just a few moments ago. I was watching Kenji practice."

Kenji flinched. First name basis, already?

"What do you think?" asked Yumiko, her eyes going from the young man to the newcomer, suddenly in full entertainer mode.

"He's either really bad, or really good. I haven't decided yet." The two women laughed. Kenji's irritation went up a notch.

"You've come at the right time. Breakfast is ready. Come in, come in."

Kenji sat in seiza at the table. Emily sat between him and Sakurako, looking at the woman with adoration. He resented it; this was usually a look she reserved for him. Yumiko sat across from him, eyeing the whole situation with barely hidden amusement.

"Emily, did you sleep here?" asked Sakurako.

Emily nodded, a proud smile on her face.

"That's great!" said the woman.

The little girl gave Kenji a shy smile. Sakurako raised an eyebrow at him then a look of comprehension crossed her face.

"Sakurako is staying at the parsonage for the summer but Mr Jenkin's parents are ailing so they've asked us to take care of Sakurako while they're gone," explained Yumiko as she passed the girl a bowl of rice.

"This house is much more interesting. Plus I already spend most of my time here anyway," said the young woman as she unceremoniously shoved rice and pickles in her mouth.

"Ms Jenkin is so stuffy!" exclaimed Emily.

Yumiko gave her a look. The little girl shrunk back against Sakurako. The young woman laughed.

Suddenly they heard a knock on the door.

"I'll get it!" Emily jumped on her feet, followed by Yumiko calling after her to sit down and eat.

Kenji stared at Sakurako as she continued eating. She had a dark complexion and wore her hair in the same style Ai did. She would have been pretty, had her manners been better. The young woman caught his gaze.

"Yes?"

"You eat a lot," blurted out Kenji, at a loss.

She shrugged.

"Ms Jenkin's cook is horrible. This is delicious. You should eat, too."

Kenji realised his chopsticks had been hovering above his food all this time. He took a few bites, washing everything down with miso soup.

"Emily. She must like you a lot," she said, pointing at him with her chopsticks.

"Why?"

"She never sleeps in this house. She's afraid of it. She's not used to the creaking and the sukimakaze like us. She must like you a lot to have decided to stay the night."

"Maybe she's just getting older," countered Kenji.

She waved her chopsticks at him again. He screamed internally.

"Don't undermine yourself. She likes you."

Before he could reply Yumiko and Emily came back, Sanosuke in tow. The tall man plopped down next to Kenji.

"Toast is great but that looks amazing!" He grinned. "Where's mine?"

Yumiko smiled and passed him a rice bowl and chopsticks. He dug in immediately. A mere few bites in and he and Sakurako got involved in an animated conversation on the merits of Japanese and English cuisines. Emily interjected when she could place a word, usually siding with Sakurako (which would earn her a small hug) and Yumiko carefully watched, ensuring that no one ever ran out of food. Kenji, overwhelmed, sat there for a moment then got up. He walked away, sitting in the morning sun on the engawa.

xxxx

"Too much action too early?"

He looked up. Yumiko stood above him. She smiled softly and sat down, legs dangling over the side of the gallery. She handed him a rice ball. He took it but let it rest in his hands, on his lap.

"She is…" he searched for the correct word.

"A handful," finished Yumiko.

He nodded.

"Will she really be staying with us."

Yumiko looked at him softly. She pushed aside a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. He resisted the urge to lean into her touch. He wanted her peace.

"She'll be staying at the big house. Don't worry."

He sighed.

"But she will grow on you, if you give her the chance. She's been coming and going every summer for the last five years. She's part of an education program from the Meiji government. They're sending young women all over the "civilized" world to learn western culture."

Kenji had vaguely heard of this initiative when he was in school. People weren't too keen to send their children away and there had been some push back.

"How was she chosen?" he asked

"Her grandfather was in the Shinsengumi. He…" she hesitated for a moment. "He didn't survive the Bakumatsu. Then, to make things worse, her father got involved in the Boshin war."

"They were on the wrong side every step of the way," said a soft voice behind them.

They turned around. Sakurako stood in the doorway.

"My uncle thought that sending me away would help polish the family name. Sano-ji-san needs more rice, is there any?"

This switch from serious to mundane jolted Kenji. Wasn't there anything sacred for that woman?

xxxx

The next week proved to be very exhausting for Kenji. The fair weather holding, Ai, Sanosuke and Sakurako decided to organise a plethora of activities around the estate. The children in tow, the entire household walked to the village, rowed boats on the lake, played hide and seek in the English gardens and stayed up late to watch the starry night sky. Kenji followed, not wanting to disappoint his niece, but his heart wasn't into it. He found Sakurako's endless energy jarring, her bluntness disconcerting. At night, they would have long drawn out meals in the dining room of the mansion, leaving no time for Kenji to question Yumiko further about his father. Later at night, he would find himself completely exhausted but unable to fall asleep, his mind a turmoil.

On a particularly warm day, Ai suggested a picnic by the rotunda. She would take the children and the necessaries by carriage. Sakurako insisted that the rest of the party ride horses. Sanosuke immediately approved and impressed everyone by riding bareback, something he had learned in the Mongolian steppes. Fersen, riding with a saddle, quickly caught up with him, leaving Sakurako and Kenji behind. Having never ridden, it took the young man a little while to get on the horse and figure out how to control the animal. Sakurako tried to help but he shut her out; he would figure this all by himself, like everything else. He eventually managed to get the horse to walk then trot slowly. The young woman, riding sidesaddle, caught up with him and matched his speed. They remained silent for a moment. Kenji refused to engage her, knowing that once she'd start talking, she wouldn't stop.

"You don't like me very much, do you," she said, after a while, quite casually.

He flinched but continued to look ahead.

"It's ok you know. I don't mind. Not very many people like me. That's one of the reasons why I'm here… probably."

He turned to her for a moment. She winked.

"Sanosuke likes you. And Ai, and Yumiko and Emily, and the children…"

"He speaks," she laughed.

He turned to her for a moment, annoyed. She winked.

"Yes, they all like me. But you don't."

He took a deep breath and exhaled through the nose. Did they really need to have that conversation? He waited a long while.

"I… This is not a good time," he finally said.

She nodded.

"Yes. Sano-ji-san told me that your parents passed away last year. I'm very sorry about that. Ai-ne-san also told me that you hadn't known about this side of your family."

He stiffened, upset. How much had everyone been telling her about his life?

"Is there anything else about myself that you would like to share with me?" he snapped.

She sighed and shook her head.

"I did it again, didn't I?"

He threw her a sideway glance. She looked genuinely contrite for once.

"Forgive me. I have this bad habit of talking before thinking. I haven't been investigating you. I just asked everyone because I just can't seem to get through to you. Everyone is full of praises for you. Emily says she wants to marry you; that little girl doesn't just warm up to anyone. I've been pestering Yumiko-oba-san on how to get you to talk to me but she just told me to talk to you. Which is what I've already been trying to do all this time!"

She took a deep breath.

"So I've thought about this, you see, and I've come to the conclusion that if I tell you my story, maybe you'll share yours."

"You don't have to tell me anything," he replied, but he was curious, in spite of his dislike.

"I know. But I want to. Just don't listen if you really don't care."

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She blew him a raspberry. He shook his head.

"Like you were told my grandfather was in the Shinsengumi. He was a staunch supporter of the Tokugawa. Our family had been on their side from Sekigahara if not from before. Things didn't end up well for him, though, and he died in a skirmish in Kyoto. My father was the youngest of four, and without my grandfather's support, the family soon became destitute. My father managed to get married somehow but never forgave the Ishin or the Meiji government. So he got involved in the Boshin war. Of course, as we you know, that didn't turn out too well either. He managed to escape and reunite with my mother. I was born long after all that, the 8th child of a starving family. My father drank a lot - he still does - and he squandered away what little we had left. My mother tried her best to keep us afloat but she died when I was very young. My uncles tried to help us, but their relationship to my father is really bad. They've all found lives in the new era, unlike my father."

The pair stopped under an oak tree. The horses grazed. Kenji squeezed the reins in his hands. He was reminded of Sanosuke and Yahiko's stories. The Meiji era had been supposed to help make a better Japan; why was it that so many people had and still suffered from its advent? To make things worse, his father had been an active participant in bringing forth the change. Anger simmered.

"Five years ago, I was a dirty thirteen year old girl with no real prospect in life, unless you consider prostitution a viable pursuit. When my oldest uncle heard about the foreign education initiative, he enrolled me. He thought it might be a good way to redeem the family name. My father raged and threatened to wall me up. Luckily, his drinking habits mean that it was more than easy for me to leave our hovel and join my uncle. I have been in Yorkshire for the last five years, and I'm very grateful to your family for having helped me find such a loving house. The Jenkins are very boring, but they've given me a life I never thought I'd have."

She smiled at him.

"Your turn now."


	22. Chapter 22

_**Chapter 22**_

 _ **きずあと**_

Kenji lay on his back on the blanket, his head resting on Yumiko's lap. Her right hand distractedly played with his hair while she leaned on the other one for support. Their gazes were set on the children, playing blind man's buff with Sakurako and Sanosuke a few paces away. Their squeals and laughter floated on the light breeze. Kenji closed his eyes. The sun warmed his face.

"A perfect afternoon, wouldn't you agree?" said Yumiko.

He nodded.

"Yet you're tens as a bowstring."

He brought his hand up as a visor and looked up at her.

"Is this about what I told you, or is it about Sakurako?" she asked.

He sighed and closed his eyes.

"I don't know. Both, I guess."

He told her what the young woman had told him. She listened attentively.

"So I presume you're angrier at your father, now."

He brought his hands to his face and rubbed it down. He let out a groan.

"No. Yes. I don't know. This is just so confusing."

He quickly told her Sanosuke, Megumi and Yahiko's stories.

"So far, no one I know has seen their life improved through this change. He was part of it all and it only brought misery," he said, testily.

"More misery."

Kenji opened his eyes.

"Sorry?"

"Meiji only brought more misery," she corrected.

He sat up.

"Or misery of another kind," she continued. "Do you believe that people had lived easy and comfortable lives before the Bakumatsu?"

Her eyes probed his. He looked down. Of course they hadn't. His father and Yumiko's childhood tales proved the exact opposite. Moreover, revolutions didn't spring out of sheer happiness.

"Kenji, you're a brilliant young man, but you need to stop anger from clouding your judgement when it comes to your father."

He looked up at her. She smiled softly.

"I understand your reaction; I would feel the same if I had been told to accept a state of affairs without any explanation. I would rebel, too, because that's who I am and in this, we are very similar, you and I. But know that I am never going to ask you to forgive or forget whomever or whatever. What I tell you about Kenshin is yours to do with how you see fit. However, that anger you hold, suspend it for a moment. Maybe you'll find something else underneath. And if you don't, well it'll be there if you still need it when all is said and done."

For a moment, the feelings of that stormy night at Megumi's clinic rushed over him. He shook his head to dispel them.

"Let's talk tonight, Kenji. I will make sure there are no distractions."

xxxx

A light drizzle had started to fall, bringing the temperature down. Kenji sat by irori, wrapped in a blanket. He looked into the embers, following the glowing red patterns. Yumiko came and settled next to him, her legs folded on her side. She passed him mug filled with a dark, sweet smelling beverage.

"Cocoa," she said. "Try it."

He took a small sip. It was rich and smooth, with a little spicy aftertaste.

"A guilty pleasure. I hide from the children, the sugar makes them climb up the walls."

She took a sip and set her mug near the irori. Her smile faded.

"Shall we continue then?"

He wrapped his fingers around the warm mug.

"Yes."

She nodded.

"As I said before, your father became the Hitokiri Battosai. He wasn't the only assassin of the Ishin; there were a few throughout the Bakumatsu, but he definitely became known - and feared - very quickly. Mothers would tell their children that the Hitokiri Battosai would come and get them if they didn't eat their vegetables or go to bed. We met a little before he became one the most powerful Ishin weapons."

She told Kenji the story of his father and her meeting.

"He came to me in all states. Clean, bloodied, drenched."

"Weren't you afraid?" asked Kenji.

She shook her head.

"There never was anything to fear. I had seen my share of blood. Incidents happened at the ochaya. I also believed that as long as he walked with me, I would be alright. It was silly, I know that know; assassins could have been set on him, but I thought he was my shield."

She drank some of her cocoa.

"Actually, I remember only being scared once. That night, he came later than usual. He had blood on his collar, but for the first time, it wasn't someone else's. One of his attackers had managed to wound him on the cheek."

She traced a line on her face.

"The blood just wouldn't stop, and for many days, I dressed his wound before we left the ochaya. He protested, of course, but like I told you, I usually got my way. I was afraid at that time, not for me, but for him. If someone could cut him, maybe he wasn't so invincible after all. I didn't want him to die."

Unconsciously, Kenji brought his hand to his cheek. He'd always wondered about his father's scar. He remembered asking questions as a child, and even scratching his cheek to make it red while looking at his reflection in the water. However he'd soon discovered that of all the topics related to Kenshin's past, this one was the most taboo.

Yumiko continued her story.

"On our walks, he always talked. About everything. His childhood. His training. His work with the Ishin - nothing vital, of course. He never asked questions. However, the one thing he told me without fail was the number of his kills for that night."

He gave her a horrified look.

"I realise it sounds gruesome now, but back then, the likelihood of finding a dead body in front of your door in the morning was relatively high. We were… immuned, in a way. Or desensitised, I guess."

Kenji shuddered.

"If that was the case, why tell you? You had your own share of horror, no?"

She crossed her hand on her lap, thinking.

"I believe he just needed to tell someone, someone outside of the Ishin. At the time, I don't think he had conscious remorse for what he did - not that he relished it either. However I think this was a way for him to clear his mind of the weight of his deeds. You might find it even more disturbing that the very next day, I would always make sure to figure out who he had slain.

He stared at her in disbelief.

"I know, it's strange, but I felt compelled to do it. Of course, I would feel ill at ease afterward, my brain trying to reconcile the sweet young man who walked me home with those violent murders. To unburden myself of that knowledge, I often went to the local shrine and said a prayer or two for the departed. I guess I was hoping to lighten your father's load in the afterlife, if not in this one."

"You were really devoted to him," he said.

She smiled wistfully.

"I was younger than you are now and constantly surrounded by old men who ultimately wanted me to be their plaything. The only boys my ages also wanted to get me in their beds. Your father only talked to me. Not to boast. Not to complain. Just to talk. Yes, I fell for him. I loved him with all my soul. I would have died for him"

She paused and looked down at her hands. Her shoulders slumped forward slightly.

"But he didn't love me back. Not in the way I wanted to," she said, a near whisper. "Truth be told, he didn't really see me. I was his walking diary. I had just been there at the right time."

She looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with sadness. Kenji felt a pang of guilt for the actions of his father.

"I was fulfilling a need. But so was he. Had we both seen the end of the Bakumatsu in Kyoto, I would simply have lived the rest of my life as a geisha. As for your father, maybe he would have survived, but most likely he would have died. No matter how hard I wished for it, there would never be a us."

"What happened then?" he asked.

She looked him straight in the eyes.

"Tomoe happened."

Yumiko gave an account of Kenshin and Tomoe's meeting, and complex relationship. Kenji couldn't hide his shock as she explained how they had lived as husband and wife before her true identity was revealed.

"Why didn't she kill him when she had the chance? Why wait so long?" he asked, bewildered.

"From what I understand, she was meant to collect information on him, or at least, that's what she was told. But things went South and ending up in Otsu hadn't been part of the original plan. I know this is really hard to understand Kenji, but she came to cherish your father, even though he had murdered her fiance. Love is a very complex emotion. She hadn't expected to fall for him, but her superiors had hoped for just that. He had no weaknesses, so they gave him one."

"So he loved her, too?"he asked, incredulous.

She nodded.

"Very much, although he never told me in as many words. Tomoe was your father's first love. She gave him something I could never have. Despite the strange circumstances that had brought them together, she was able to give him what he had wanted the most."

"What was that?"

She sighed.

"The very thing you're seeking, Kenji. A normal life."

Her words hit him like a pile of bricks. A normal life. Yes. It didn't matter what shape or form it took, he did long for normalcy. Had this been what his father had sought as well? It made no sense.

"But surely he knew his life wouldn't be normal by joining the Ishin!"

"You forget that your father felt he had a debt to repay. He would never have been able to find peace while other people suffered in the turmoil. He hoped for absolution on the other side of war, but he found it in its midst."

He leaned forward.

"If living with that woman brought him so much happiness, why couldn't he find the same happiness in our home?"

Kenji heard his voice crack. He took a deep breath. Now wasn't the time for tears. He had had enough of those.

"We will get to this, I promise, but let's not get ahead of the story just yet."

She shifted positions. For the first time, he spied the scarred skin of her right leg. She followed his gaze.

"We will get to this, too. Be patient."

He nodded reluctantly and took another sip of his beverage. He found it cloying and unpleasant.

"The man who revealed Tomoe's treachery also was a traitor. He sent Kenshin after Tomoe so that they could kill him. He almost died on his way there, attacked countless times by strategically positioned shinobis. But the thought of Tomoe kept him going. When he finally faced their boss, he was half-dead. In fact, he should have died. But Tomoe, who bore witness to this last fight intervened"

Kenji hung on her lips.

"She interposed herself between your father and his opponent. Kenshin, disoriented and desperate didn't see her. With the last of his strength, he blindly stroke down."

She paused.

" Your father came to his senses and saw that he had slain both his foe and his lover. With the last of her strength she slashed his cheek, her cut intersecting her fiance's. She died in his arms."

The rain outside drizzled against the amado. The fire crackled. She looked at him. Kenji held his breath.

"You father destroyed his own happiness with the very tool he had hoped to use to create it. Although he later vowed to spend his life helping people, there was a darkness in him now where there had been light. He truly came of age that day. Katsura heard of the incident and moved him to another position shortly after, which probably saved his life."

Kenji felt a heavy weight in his stomach. He clenched his fists on his lap and focused on the fire. His vision tunneled. He simply couldn't reconcile these facts with his father. They explained a lot, but he couldn't picture him acting out these tragics events. He realised for the first time that his father had been more than just his father; he'd been an individual, a human being, with hopes and fears, just like himself.

Suddenly, a thought came to his mind. He got up and scrambled to his trunk. He opened it and foraged around. Yumiko simply stared at him, her head cocked to the side. He finally found a furoshiki wrapped bundle. He walked back to the irori and set the package between them.

"I found this in my father's room."

He tried to untie the knots with his trembling fingers. Yumiko put her hands on his and squeezed.

"Let me do it."

He sat back.

Delicately, she untied the furoshiki to reveal a pile of neatly folded fabric. She picked up the first one and draped it across her lap. The blue stained silk shimmered in the light of the fire. She looked up at him with a complex expression, somewhere between shock and pain.

"This… This was Tomoe's," she whispered.

A shiver ran along his spine. He watched as she caressed the fabric with her fingertips, avoiding the stains.

"He wore it the last time I saw him. I can't believe he…"

She found the end of the scarf and probed it with her fingers, looking for something. She lifted the hem and brought it close to the light for him to see. A few unskillful stitches in black thread stood out.

"I did those. The scarf was unravelling..." she said in a small voice.

Holding on to the fabric, she let her hands fall on her lap. She stared ahead, far away in another time, another place. He looked down at the rest of the bundle, hesitating. He shook his head. He needed to finish this. He needed answers.

He picked up his father's hakamashita and handed it to her. She jumped when the rough fabric touched her hands. She looked at the garment then lifted it up, unfolding it. She shook her head and smiled. Tears started to roll down her cheeks.

"He wore this all the time. I don't think he owned anything else."

She folded Kenshin's clothes on her lap, gingerly running her fingers across it. Kenji handed her the hakama. He observed her as she inspected both garments, the scarf forgotten.

"I can't believe he kept these for all those years."

Tears flowed freely from her eyes, yet she still smiled. Kenji wasn't sure was aware of his presence anymore. She suddenly looked younger; her movements were more graceful, her expression softer. She hugged the clothes to her chest and buried her face in them. Kenji had a sharp vision of his mother doing the exact same thing, many years ago. For the first time, he felt the magnitude of Kaoru's love for Kenshin. He still couldn't comprehend it, but it was clear that, just like Yumiko's love, it had been truly unconditional.


	23. Chapter 23

_**Chapter 23**_

 _ **De criminibus innocentes**_

Kenji watched the sunrise on the green, lush, rolling hills. Some leftover clouds from the previous night's showers still hung low on the horizon, stretched thin like cotton candy. The morning light painted the sky bright shades of orange, yellow and pink. He observed their fleeting colours from the pasture field his steps had taken him to. Despite his leather boots, his feet were wet. So was the hem of his hakama. He vaguely registered the discomfort.

Once again, sleep had eluded him. After Yumiko had quiet down and profusely apologised he had shown her the pictures, locket and various news clippings he had also discovered. She had refused to take them back and instead had filled Kenji in on the details of his father's life after Tomoe's death. She'd explained how she and he had met again, how a fire had destroyed her okiya, and how she had ended up on Dejima. Kenji had learned of his father's peripatetic quest for redemption across Japan, of his meeting with Kaoru and of Shishio's machinations and defeat. Yumiko had refused to address the green Dutch bible and Kenshin's life after he had been reunited with her, if only briefly.

 _Summer is upon us. Enjoy yourself. We will continue the story when I see fit._

He hadn't insisted; instinctively, he knew it would have been futile. She had gone to sleep. He had stayed outside and waited for the rain to subside.

In the distance, he spied a shepherd leading a flock of sheep to pasture. He observed the animals for a long while. At some point, the man noticed him and stood still. After a moment, he crossed himself and walked on. The sun now above the horizon, the azure of the sky chased infinity. Kenji resume his walk.

Could the mind be both blank and overwhelmed at the same time? He didn't know, but he certainly felt that way. Left to its own devices, his brain would jump wildly from one thought to the other, conjuring up a plethora of gruesome scenes to witness. Yet, whenever he tried to catch one of them to explore it, he suddenly found himself unable to focus, the thought lost, dissolved into nothingness. As for emotions, it seemed as if they had ceased to function. He felt nothing but a vague, flat emptiness, something akin to loss but without its poignancy. No doubt Yumiko had been right to withhold further information.

He came to a stop in front of a small stone residence surrounded by a a low wall. The front garden was in full bloom. He leaned on the wall and observed the different flowers, chasing with his gaze the first bumble bees of the day. The sun warmed his back. He closed his eyes.

"Kenji?"

The young man started awake and reached for his sword. His hand grasped the air. He looked around and saw Sakurako standing next to a bicycle. Her head was cocked to the side, concern furrowed her brow.

"Did you spend the night here?"

He shook his head and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"I was walking and ended up here. I must have fallen asleep. Whose house is this?"

The woman smiled.

"The Jenkins'. I was just going to take some things and ride back to the manor. Want to go back together?"

"Sure," he replied, still feeling the fuzziness of sleep.

She emerged a few moment later to find Kenji closely looking at her bicycle. She walked up to him, put a small bundle in the basket, and smiled.

"Have you ever ridden?"

"No, but I have seen them in Tokyo."

"How about you give it a try?"

He looked at the contraption then looked at her. If she could, then he definitely could, too.

"Let's do it."

They walked a few paces away from the home onto the path. Kenji took out a string he kept about and tied the sleeves of his hakamashita so they wouldn't get in his way. The seat turned out to be very uncomfortable. He had a hard time keeping his balance at first but once he got the hang of it, he soon realise that his hakama kept getting caught in the chain.

"Do you have other strings?" asked Sakurako.

He didn't. She thought for a moment then shrugged.

"Oh, well. This will do."

Reaching up, she untied the ribbon that held her gibson girl hairdo up. He hair came cascading down around her face and down her back. He stared at her as she arranged it. He bit his lower lip. She noticed him and winked at him. He turned away, his face irradiating with heat. Sakurako ripped the ribbon in two.

"Come. We need to tie you up."

He gave her a horrified look. She burst out laughing. He didn't know where to set his eyes anymore.

"Come here, you silly goose. I need to tie the legs of your hakama."

He complied and observed as she circled his ankles with the thin lace ribbons. Her deft fingers moved nimbly.

"You won't get in trouble for this?" he asked.

"The ribbon? No. Give me your other leg. Funny thing, money. A few years ago I would never have imagined I could even own something so pretty. Now I have dozens."

She stood up and pushed her hair back. He blushed and pretended to adjust the strings of his hakama.

"Let's try this," she said.

Kenji got on the bicycle. This time, he got it right after only a few tries. He pedaled some length of the path then turned around and came back. Sakurako applauded.

"Marvellous! Now let's try something else."

The woman nudged Kenji forward and sat side saddle on the seat.

"Try to sit like this, alright?"

They switched place.

"Now hold on to my waist."

He stared at her.

"Come on, don't be so uptight!"

She grabbed his hands, throwing him dangerously off balance for a moment, and planted them solidly above her hips. Through the softness of the fabric, he felt the study corset. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Ready?"

Without waiting for an answer, she got up and started pedaling. The bicycle moved slowly at first but soon gained momentum. The wind blew her hair in his face. He was assailed by her sweet perfume. He closed his eyes for a second and almost fell off the seat when she came to an abrupt stop. She turned around.

"Now you do it. Gentlemen pedal, ladies look pretty." She laughed.

Once again, they switched place. Sakura had no qualm grabbing onto his side and even slid her thumbs in the outer string of his hakama for support. He was glad to be facing the other way. He immediately found out that riding with a passenger wasn't as easy as she had made it seem. However, he soon managed to get to a steady cruising speed. Sweat pearled on his forehead as they got nearer to the mansion. Suddenly, after a sharp turn, he found the path had disappeared under a gigantic puddle. Sakurako noticed it, too.

"Kenji, break!"

Kenji momentarily forgetting how to operate breaks kept going at full speed. The couple rode through the full length of the muddy puddle. The bike came to a natural stop on the incline. They got off. He looked at her. Her skirts were drenched and muddied. Part of her hair stuck limply to her back. Speck of mud punctuated her face.

"I'm so sorry," he said, aghast.

"I think you got the worst end of the deal," she replied.

He looked down. His entire front side dripped muddy water. He touched his face and looked at his fingers. More mud. He tried to wipe it with his sleeve but only made it worse. He looked back at Sakurako.

An impish grin slowly stretched across her face. She suddenly burst into laughter. Kenji immediately joined it. Soon, tears were rolling out from the corner of his eyes and his abdominal muscles cramped. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed this hard. It felt so good.

xxxxx

In the weeks that followed, Kenji warmed up to Sakurako and they soon became inseparable. They rode their bicycles to the village, took long walks on the estate and spent many an evening in the company of the family. Kenji started to teach her Kamiya Kashin Ryu and she taught him piano. Together, they read English novels, played uta garuta and had long discussions about Japan, England, the place of women in society as well as other topical political issues. They included Emily whenever they could, but by the dog days of summer, they spent more and more time alone. Looking for Kenji meant finding Sakurako, and vice versa. Even when the Jenkins' returned and the young woman move back to the parsonage, the pair remained as close.

Yumiko observed it all with an approving eye. Kenji had truly come into himself in these last few months. She felt it was time to finish his father's story. Yet, it chagrined her to have to disrupt the young man's happiness. She postponed it as long as she could, but by the end of August, seeing the budding love between the two youngsters, she decided it was time to act. On what would prove to be one of the last warm evenings of summer, she waited for him to return from dinner at the mansion. He came in high spirits, surprised to find her awake so late. She noticed as he discreetly curved his wrist to drop in his sleep a folded piece of paper he had been carrying. She invited him to sit on the engawa.

"You and Sakurako have truly become the best of friends, haven't you," she said.

He nodded.

"Am I wrong to think that the two of you might even be in love?"

He didn't reply immediately, glad for the darkness obscuring his face.

"Maybe," he said, in a small voice.

She smiled at him.

"This is nothing to be embarrassed of. I wasn't expecting it, but I'm glad."

He turned to her. She winked.

"Have you told her about your father?" she asked.

He looked at his hands resting on his lap.

"No. I…" he hesitated. "I'm ashamed to say that I haven't given him much thought since you last told me about him."

He looked up.

"But I will tell her in time. Or if she asks. I would rather we had no secrets from each other."

Yumiko reach out her hand and tucked a stay lock of hair behind his ear. He leaned into her touch. Their relationship had grown over the summer; she had become akin to a mother to him. However, they shared a proximity that would not have normally been seen in a traditional Japanese mother-son relationship. He presumed it was because of her past as a geisha; she assumed Kenji needed a deeper human connection. Neither of them was right. Neither of them was wrong.

"I'm glad to hear that. I wanted to tell you more about your father tonight, but before I do, I think there is something I need to say."

She grew somber.

"Do you remember when I told you about your father's assignments? I mentioned how I would always figure out who had been slain."

He frowned, unsure of what this had to do with Sakurako.

"I do remember but…"

"Let me finish," she softly interrupted. The sadness in her eyes brought back the weight of anxiety he hadn't felt in his stomach for most of the summer.

"I still remember those names. I memorised them. All of them. They are etched in my memory forever."

She stared him in the eyes.

"Minagawa Sanzaburo was killed by your father on the streets of Kyoto shortly before Tomoe came into his live."

She paused, wishing she could bury away what she had to say next.

"Minagawa Sanzaburo was Sakurako's grandfather."


	24. Chapter 24

_**Chapter 24**_

 _ **One hand taketh**_

Kenji stared at his hands resting on his laps. Even from the grave, it seemed that his father would make everything in his power to make his life difficult. What was he supposed to do with this information? He sighed.

"Does Sakurako…?"

Yumiko shook her head.

"I haven't told her. I never really saw the need to, but if you two are to take things any further, you will need to take a decision."

He nodded weakly. In his sleeve, the sweet note the young woman had written him burnt against the skin of his forearm. He clenched his fists. His lips turned into a hard line. The familiar anger sparked in his chest; he wanted nothing more than to let it rekindle and allow it to set emblaze his entire being. Yet it also felt uncomfortable. His knowledge simply wouldn't allow him to be consumed by blind rage. He hadn't forgiven his father actions, but he somewhat understood their context and motivation. Yumiko wrapped one of his fists with her long pale fingers, interruption his internal monologue. He didn't look at her.

"Kenji. You have no obligation to withhold that information from her, nor do you need to tell her everything. There is no right or wrong answer. The choice is entirely yours."

He nodded anew.

Kenji expected to spend the night awake, his mind working this new conundrum. Yet, he fell asleep almost immediately. He was awoken by the light of the morning sun softly filtered by the shoji. He sat up and shivered. The first chill of fall had descended upon the estate. He dressed up quickly and made his way to the mansion. The air was crisp and the dew on the grass sparkled. He had witnessed this bucolic scenery numerous times during the summer yet now, with his heart heavy, he felt _mono no aware_ , the impermanence of life, for the very first time. Had this vernal idyl been just a dream? Something to be enjoyed and then released? Then again, if he kept his knowledge to himself, this could continue as before. There could be talks of the future, of time to be enjoyed together, there could be the ephemeral warmth of hands secretly held and the promise of more… But could he truly cherish and protect Sakurako while withholding such an important information from her? Or was revealing it fulfilling this very oath? Moreover, if she found out by herself, would she blame (or worse, hate) him for not telling the truth? Would he then just be no better than his father, with his lies of omission and half-truths?

"My oh my, Kenji. What's with the long face this morning?"

Kenji looked up, startled. He'd reached the house. Sakurako stood on the steps, grinning at him. He spoke before he could even think.

"My father killed your grandfather," he blurted out.

The young woman cocked her head sideways, an uncertain smile on her lips. His eyes widened with horror at the realisation of what he had just said.

"I… My father… He was…"

His mind raced in a panic, unable to find a way to backtrack. He stared at the woman he had learned to love, his face a mask of despair. His brain screamed, urging him to run away but his legs remained firmly planted on the ground. Sakurako's expression grew soft as she walked down the stairs and closed the distance between them. She took his hands in hers and shook them once, then twice, as if making up her mind.

"I know, Kenji. I know."

She's guided him silently to the orangery. Kenji held on to her hand, fearing that he might not feel the warmth of her skin ever again. He'd cursed himself every step of the way, unable to understand why he'd said such a thing. Her words had barely registered. She knew? Of course she didn't? How could she when he hadn't even known!

Sakurako lead him to a small wrought iron table in the far corner, a spot where they had enjoyed reading on rainy days. He sat and looked down at his hands, shoulders slumped forward. She grabbed the other chair and dragged it across the tiled floor so she could sit in front of him. Their knees almost touched. He leaned back instinctively and looked away.

"Kenji…"

She took his hands in her. He bit his lower lip.

"Kenji, look at me."

Reluctantly, he turned to face her. Her brown eyes had a soft expression that did not at all match the panic in his own.

"I…" He tried to speak but realised he didn't know what to say.

"Let me do the talking. I'm the chatty one, remember?" she smiled and winked. He felt a pang in his stomach; what if he lost of all this? What would he do, then?

"I know about your father. I've known for a long time."

"How?" A whisper.

She shrugged.

"Your father was a famous assassin, Kenji. The Ishin didn't officially claim all of the assassinations, but everyone knew who was killing whom. My family had direct ties to the shogun; making the connection wasn't really difficult."

Kenji nodded.

"I'm sorry. Because of my father… your life..."

She shook her head and squeezed his hands.

"Kenji, had the hitokiri battosai not killed my grandfather, someone else would have. It was war, and he was on the losing side. Plus I didn't really have time to care or think about it, growing up. I mean, my father was all about destroying the Ishin, but by the time I was old enough to understand what he was going on about, he was little more than a blubbering drunk stuck in the past. I had a vague understanding of the famous assassin and what it meant for our current situation, but aside from my father, my entire family was doing its best to restore the family name. I was not brought up with revenge on my mind."

Kenji felt relief wash over him. Yet, he was still anxious.

"How did you figure out that I… That I was my father's son."

Sakurako stared at him for a moment. He held his breath. She burst out laughing, letting go of his hands. Panic stricken, he looked at her, awaiting his fate. She shook her head and gave him a loving look.

"Oh you silly goose. Look at you! It wasn't really hard. I mean, I didn't think much of it when I saw Ai's hair, but when I saw yours, and I saw you execute that perfect batto justu, it just clicked. Somehow, I had managed to find myself in the presence of the relatives of the hitokiri battosai while on the other side of the globe. How crazy is that?"

"Were you angry?" he asked.

She furrowed her brow and cocked her head.

"Why would I have been angry?"

"Because my father ruined your family. Because my family is affluent. Because you grew up destitute. Because you almost had to…" He couldn't say the words. He didn't want to imagine other men touching her, even if it hadn't happen.

She pulled her chair closer. Their knees touched.

"What your father took, your sister gave back to me, many times over. I am happy here. I have things I could never have dreamed of in Japan. Had my grandfather lived, who knows what situation I might have been in. Maybe I wouldn't even have been born! Had he lived, I would never have ended up here in England. Here with you."

She blushed and looked away, unable to sustain his gaze. He had never seen her act that way. Feeling bold, he cupped her cheek with his hand, forcing her to look at him. She smiled shyly. He smiled back. He leaned in and before their lips touched, he whispered.

"Thank you."

NOTES

Sorry about the long delay! I was simply stumped. I'm leaving for Japan soon but I will try to keep this going so I can finish it. I have partial drafts of the other chapters so it should go pretty quickly.


	25. Chapter 25

_**Chapter 25**_

 _ **Interlude**_

Sanosuke looked out at the lawn where Kenji was giving Sakurako one last Kamiya Kasshin Ryu lesson before her departure for Manchester. He smiled. Something had happened between those two, he could tell. Something good. Sakurako lunged forward. Kenji deflected her blow and hit her softly on the back of the neck with his bokuto. Her hair suddenly came undone. Sanosuke's lingering smile slowly faded away as he saw the young woman's jet black hair cascade down her back. He continued to watch, distractedly, his mind drifting back to Japan. He didn't hear her come in.

"You're pining for someone, Sagara-san."

Sanosuke jumped. On his left side stood Yumiko. She was a rare sight in the manor at this hour of the day. Her eyes found the young couple. She observed them.

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

"It was my job to get information out of men. Occupational hazard, I'm afraid," she replied, without facing him. "The British find me too blunt. The Japanese even more so, if I'm completely honest."

She laughed behind her hand, a rehearsed gesture. She turned to him.

"You would do anything for Kenji. You love the boy like a father; you've proven it over and over. He brings you great joy. Yet something isn't right. I've been observing you. Something's missing. What is it? What ails your heart, Sagara Sanosuke?"

He looked her in the eyes. They had talked a lot over the course of the summer, but always about Kenshin and Kenji. Yumiko had always sought his approval before revealing anything to the young man. Even when what she had revealed had visibly shocked Sanosuke, they had never addressed it. So why now? Was it because she would soon give Kenji the last piece of the puzzle? Because she needed him to be completely available for the boy should he need him, and no doubt he would? Her face revealed nothing. Yet, he couldn't help but unburden himself. And so he answered with honesty.

"Kenji was raised by all of us, as you know. He was Kenshin and Kaoru's son, but he was also ours. We put all our hopes and dreams in him. We want for his life to be the best life any of us could have ever hoped for. But I failed him. I walked out on him when he would have needed me the most."

He clenched his fists. He turned to Kenji and Sakurako still practicing on the lawn despite a sudden fine drizzle.

"I was too proud to try and understand why Kenshin suddenly wanted to have control of what his son knew or not. I never paused to ask myself why. I was selfish. Had he not shared it all with us, the good and the bad? I was wrong, of course. He hadn't even shared half of it. We… I had no idea of the pain he was in, no idea of the ghosts that relentlessly haunted him. Had I known what I know now, what you told me, I would have acted differently. I would have stayed and been the true friend I should have been. The friend he believed me to be. And Kenji would have had a chance at loving his father. The gods know how Kenshin needed it. Not only did I fail Kenji, but I also failed Kenshin."

He shook his head and sighed.

"I tried to find Kenshin in China, and then in Russia. But it wasn't exactly the right time or the right place. When I finally found him he was so far gone he barely knew me. I never got to ask for his forgiveness."

His shoulders slumped. She put her hand on his upper arm.

"He tried to find you, too. He knew that you were on the continent. You saw his letters. He knew you were both working in Kenji's best interest. I don't think you need to ask for his forgiveness; there is nothing to forgive."

He nodded, yet he knew he probably would never let it go. He also feared that once he knew the truth, Kenji would reject him like he had Kenshin. He knew it to be completely illogical, as he had learned the truth himself only recently, but fear knows nothing of logic.

They remained silent side by side for a while, watching the couple spar. Darker clouds were amassing on the horizon. Pillars of light moved on the moors in the distance. Sanosuke could still feel the woman's hand on his arm.

"That is not all, is it?"

He looked at her. She faced forward, a soft smile on her face, like that of a mother keeping a proud, yet watchful eyes on her children. For some reason, Sanosuke once again felt compelled to tell this woman he barely knew everything. He understood the pull she must have had on a young Kenshin.

"Megumi. She was always a fan of Kenshin's. She loved him as much as Kaoru did, maybe more."

Yumiko nodded. She knew every member of their little family, most of them if only through Kenshin's words.

"But he chose Kamiya-san," she said softly. "Unlike Yukishiro Tomoe, had she lived, unlike Takani Megumi and unlike myself, Kamiya Kaoru was a blank slate. She hadn't been touched by war or the darkness of this world. She shone like a beacon and Kenshin would have crashed against the rocks without her."

"Yes, and just like yourself, Megumi never stopped loving Kenshin."

Yumiko smiled.

"Am I that transparent?" she laughed softly, a natural reaction. "There was something attractive about Kenshin that he wasn't aware of. He was broken, yet he didn't know it. He was a deadly assassin with the heart of a child. I guess he stirred our maternal instincts. We all wanted to save him."

She gave him a wistful smile.

"A fool's errand, if there ever was one. At least your Megumi could literally save him with her medicine. She did more than any of us ever tangibly could. But I digress. You say Megumi never stopped loving Kenshin." She paused. "And you never stopped loving her."

He stared at her, startled. He smirked.

"Am I that transparent?"

She smiled back at him, appreciating the humour. He grew serious again.

"She knows, of course. She's always known. We've come to what you could call an arrangement. I've asked her to marry me before I left. It wasn't the first time."

"Judging by your expression, she refused again?"

"Yes. I had always thought that it only was her love for Kenshin that prevented her from saying yes. I told her that I would never expect that kind of devotion. That night before we left for England, she finally told me."

He trembled. Yumiko frowned with concern.

"That… madman, he did... _things_ to her. She never told anyone, not even Kenshin. She was beaten. She was raped... I can't even think about it."

Tears escaped his eyes. He wiped them away with his open hand. This had weighed on his soul since they'd left Japan. He'd managed to keep it locked in the back of his mind most of the time, but he could never completely forget that it was there. Megumi had made him promise he would never tell anyone about it, but he simply couldn't bear this pain all alone anymore.

"They hurt her so much... She was permanently scarred…."

He took a shaky breath. Saying those things only made them more real.

"She can't have children," finished Yumiko, a sad look on her face.

He pinched his lips and nodded.

"I told her that I don't care. That if only we got married we could maybe try to adopt Kenji, even if not officially. We could make things right by him. But she said she couldn't rob me of the chance of having children on my own."

He sniffed and wiped his face again.

"She called herself damaged goods." his voice broke, his last words but a painful whisper.

He put his hands on the window sill and leaned forward trying to regain his composure. Yumiko put her hand on his shoulder.

"All this time, Takani Megumi pined for Kenshin because she knew she couldn't have him," she said.

He turned to Yumiko.

"How do you mean?"

"If she couldn't have him, then she didn't have to face her own barrenness, her own inability to fulfill her role as a woman. Better spurned than inadequate. I think you might find that Megumi loves you, only you. And has for much longer than you think."

He squeezed his eyes shut and faced away from her. Fresh tears rolled on his cheeks.


	26. Chapter 26

_**Chapter 26**_

 _ **For everything a reason**_

A lazy drizzle had overtaken the moor. Plunged in increasingly early darkness, the estate loomed like a behemoth on the horizon. The wet gravel crunched under Kenji's boots. He pulled the collar of his frock coat up, not yet used to feeling the cool air on his bare neck. Joined by his sister's little family and Sanosuke, he had accompanied Sakurako to York, hoping to spend as much time with her as possible before her train left for Manchester where she was to attend school. As a gift, he had arranged for Fersen to take him to his barber and tailor. Sakurako had barely recognised him at first but he would forever cherish the look on her face when she had. Unsurprisingly She had immediately given her seal of approval to his new English look. In true Sakurako fashion, she had even managed to find a photographer to immortalise his transformation forever.

He had meant to stay with Ai in York for a few days, but seeing Sakurako go had put him in a somewhat gloomy mood. And so he had decided to return to the mansion early. As per usual, the carriage ride had made him rather queasy, and he had chosen to walk from the gate home, a choice he was now regretting.

His mind had been quick to set aside the tremendous fear he had felt a few days prior when he had talked of his father to Sakurako. The feeling of relief had actually motivated him to tell her everything he knew. She had proven to be as good a listener as she had been a talker. Sharing this information with her, retelling his father's stories in his own words had put his life in a different light. He had to admit that one of the reasons he had returned home early was also so he could be completely alone with Yumiko to hear the last chapter of his life story.

He reached Yumiko's house only to find it completely dark. It was too early for her to be in bed. He headed for the mansion. Part of the staff had accompanied the rest of the family to York and the remainder had been given the evening off so Kenji was completely alone when he entered the house. Not to sure where to store his hat and frock coat, he took them off and left them on a chair in the hall. Most of the lamps were off but he could hear the sound of the piano in the distance so he decided to follow it. The wooden floor creaked under his feet as he made his way through the empty corridors. It seemed that the shadows were populated with ghouls and fiends awaiting his passage to assail him. He couldn't help but shudder. He was glad to finally reach the drawing room. Light seeped through the ajar door. He walked in.

A woman, her back to him, sat at the piano. He long black hair was undone, cascading down her back to her waist. She wore a dark red robe. He body swayed with the music, which Kenji soon recognised to be Lachrimae, one of his favourite pieces. He assumed she was a servant, taking advantage of the empty house. He stood near the door and closed his eyes, enjoying the moment. When the final notes subsided, he opened his eyes and clapped. The woman jumped and turned around with a small cry. When she saw him, she jumped up, causing the bench to topple over.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

Kenji suddenly realised that this was none other than Yumiko. He had never seen her with her hair down or without makeup. He took a step forward. She backed away.

"It's me, Kenji!" he laughed.

Yumiko squinted.

"Kenji? What… I thought… " she started to laugh. He walked the few steps that separated them and set the bench straight. Yumiko kept her eyes on him the whole time, an amazed smile on her face.

"Look at you! What a transformation!"

He couldn't help but blush.

"I owe Sanosuke money now…" she mumbled.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Never you mind. I thought you were only coming back in a few days," she said. "Ai?"

He shook his head.

"They stayed behind. I just didn't feel like playing the tourist in York."

He gestured to the piano with his chin.

"I didn't know you played."

"I don't really play unless I'm all alone here. I don't normally go around dressed like this either," she said, pointing at her western style robe with a slightly embarrassed look.

He gave her the once-over.

"You look good this way."

She laughed with her hand in front of her mouth.

"My, my. You're slowly turning into an English gentleman."

xxx

Outside, night had fallen and the rain intensified. They sat by the irori, finishing their simple meal by the soft light of two lanterns. Kenji had changed into a yukata, making him even more aware of his new haircut. Yumiko had braided her hair. At first glance, they looked like imposters sitting where the true occupants of this house could normally found. Kenji liked the idea of a new self, although he would not have been able to explain it in such precise terms. He felt different and this new image was helping help settle in this new persona.

They had discussed Kenji's trip to York and Sakurako's departure but they now sat quietly. Yumiko, legs extended, arm resting on a kyosoku, nibbled at piece of apple. She shot a glance at Kenji.

"Sake," she said.

"What?"

"This is the perfect night for sake."

Without another word, she walked to the tansu, kneeled and opened one of the cupboards. All the while, she exaggerated her movements, acting a caricature of her old self. He chuckled. She sat back down, graceful uncorked the bottle and poured him a cup. He returned the favor.

"We should be drinking atsukan, but I am too lazy to warm it up. Also, you are now too English to care."

They laughed and cheered. He took a sip. It was delicious. Yumiko smiled at him.

"I used to do this every night. And I was younger than you are now! Hard to believe, I know. I haven't had a customer in such a long time! What stories should I delight you with tonight, go-shujin-sama?"

He grinned and finished his cup. She poured him another. Embolden by the alcohol, he didn't hesitate.

"I think I would like to hear the rest of my father's story."

She nodded, her face suddenly serious. She'd been waiting.

"I have had time to think since you told me about Sakurako's grandfather. As you know, I didn't wait long to tell her what I knew. But in that short moment of uncertainty, when I just couldn't decide what to do, a great fear overtook me. I can't put it into words," said Kenji

Yumiko kept silence, giving him time.

"I felt like I was about to lose everything. I had both the means to find happiness and the very tools to destroy it."

He looked her straight in the eyes.

"To be honest, I felt angry, too. Angry at my father, angry at you… but also angry at myself. Had I come so far seeking the truth only to hide it myself? I didn't notice just then, but once the fear was gone, once I was able to think clearly again, it hit me. What if my father had been in the same situation?"

Yumiko pinched her lips. He took another sip of sake and continued.

"I'm not good with this stuff, but I…" he sighed and looked away, rubbing the nape of his neck. "I know it's ridiculous, but right now I want this to be the truth more than I have ever wanted anything else."

He stared at his cup. He could feel the heat on his face. He would have been hard pressed to say if it was the sake or embarrassment.

"Kenji, I'm sorry my revelation put you in so much distress, but I'm also glad. I think you will appreciate what I'm about to tell you a whole lot more now."

She filled his cup. He filled hers. She put the bottle away.

"The war left your father scarred more than he ever admitted. However I truly believe that for the time he stayed with your mother, he found solace. Sadly, the past caught up with him."

She shifted her legs and pushed her braid behind her shoulder.

"Soon after I left for the Netherland, you father reinstituted me as his official confidant. Letters came from Japan at regular intervals. They were filled with the minutiae of daily life, nothing extraordinary but they made me happy, especially since, for the first time, I got to confide in him as well. Our epistolary relationship was like any other. That is, until the Kitakami jiken."

He frowned. Why was that vaguely familiar?

"On December 15 of the 19th year of Meiji, Kitakami Fumiaki and his family were found dead in their Tokyo residence. The official statement was that Kitakami had killed his entire family before committing seppuku. Their death was so gruesome that it even made international news. Go get me that green bible, will you?"

Kenji complied. He remembered the name now. Mothers would tell their kids Kitakami was going to come for them when they misbehaved. He handed the book to Yumiko and sat back down. She set it down next to her and shifted to grab a book of sutra from the tansu. She thumbed a few pages then, finding the one she was looking for, she carefully pulled a piece of washi and a broadsheet from the fold of two pages.

"Your father and I had developed this tactic to send each other compromising content during the war. No one bothered checking dull religious books for subversive materials."

She handed the broadsheet to Kenji. It gave a detailed account of the Kitakami murder and made it clear that the man had had dealings with the law in the past.

"That was the official version of the news. At least in Japan."

She grabbed the heavy bible and showed him the back pastedown, still torn away from the cover.

"You told me this is where the utagaruta card was hidden."

He nodded. She flipped the book over to reveal the front pastedown.

"Had you been unlucky, this is what you would have found."

Delicately, she ran her finger at the base of the spine, slowly pulling at the pastedown. After a somewhat alarming tearing sound, the rest of the card paper gave easily. Two yellowed newspaper clippings fell to the floor. She arranged them on the tatami for him to see. They were from an English newspaper based in India

 _Gruesome murder in the Japanese capital,_ read the first one.

 _Foul play suspected in murder of man with ties with the Ishin Revolutionaries_ was the title of the second one. She didn't give him time to read further.

"By chance, I received both your father's letter and the Indian newspaper clippings at the same time."

She handed him the folded piece of washi. Kenji realised he was seeing his father's handwriting for the first time.

 _Shiwasu 16, Meiji 19_

 _Yumiko,_

 _I am in shock. I knew Kitakami from the war; we were in the same kiheitai division. Although he had a good 10 years on me, he was always kind to me. The others feared me, but he took me under his wing. I hadn't seen him since joining Katura's entourage Fate made us meet again a few days ago in Asakusa. He recognised me immediately (obviously.) I was so surprised. We got to talking, and I learned that unbeknownst to me, Kitakami had also joined the hitokiri ranks for another general. Sadly, he didn't manage to leave the fray after the war and found himself the puppet of the Ishin government. He told me tales of violence, blackmail, and forced involvement in policies he simply couldn't agree with. He told me he feared for his family. He had tried to sever his ties to the Ishin only to be met with threats. We left with the promise of meeting again. He was a good man. I can't believe what they say. His daughter had just married and was expecting a child…_

 _###########_

 _Your friend_

 _Himura_

"I don't know what he meant to write there," she said, pointing at the line of text that had been scratched out," but he must have been really worried to censor himself. I immediately sent the bible to him, with the two hidden articles."

She handed him the English clippings. He perused them quickly. Here, the suspicion clearly fell on the Japanese government. Kitakami's gruesome role in the revolution was highlighted as well. Kenji looked at Yumiko, hanging on her lips.

"I didn't get any news from your father for a very long time. I feared the worst. What if they had intercepted the bible? What if they had found out about Kenshin's connection to Kitakami…?"

She reached for the tansu again and pulled out a large ledger. She turned the pages until she found what she was looking for then handed it to him.

"Then, in June of the following year, I got this letter."

 _Yayoi 23, Meiji 20_

 _Yumiko,_

 _Thank you for the silk. Following the incident that we know and with this confirmation of my fears, I have taken it upon myself to put as much distance as possible between Kenji, Kaoru, and myself. In the past few months, my nightmares have intensified as I pondered this conundrum. I can't bear to imagine such a gruesome fate befalling my family. Upon reflection, I realise now that my past has already endangered everyone several times. If_ they _are ready to retaliate in this manner, I have no hope. My allies are fast disappearing. I am starting to wonder of I ever had any. I simply can't win this fight. I am completely ensnared. It is a miracle that I am still alive. I have told Kaoru-dono. I am afraid I have broken her heart again. She deserves so much better...I leave in the morning to perform an assignment I can't take the risk to refuse. I should get some sleep yet find myself unable to move as the little one is asleep in my lap._

The letter ended abruptly without a signature. Kenji set the book down with shaky hands. Yumiko gave him a wistful look and set the volume aside. He could see in her eyes that she wanted to comfort him. She didn't.

"I…" he began. The words eluded him.

Overwhelmed, he covered his face with his hands. He sighed loudly. Despite the alcohol, his mind was sharp. It all made sense now. Sanosuke's row with his father. Everyone refusing to give him any information about the past. His father's refusal to teach him Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. Every step of the way, Kenshin had tried to put as much distance as possible between himself and his son. Every step of the way, he had tried to make sure that no close connection could be established between himself and his loved ones. This sword of Damocles had dictated his every decision. His father had lived in constant fear, a fear that was beyond Kenji's understanding


	27. Chapter 27

_**Chapter 27**_

 _ **Letters to a friend**_

Yumiko poured more sake. She drank in silence, watching Kenji toy with his own cup. He stared in the distance, his mind far, far away. She waited, wondering if Kenshin had intended for her to reveal all this to his son. What had been those instructions left with his lawyer? Had the fire come close to annihilate all her chances of ever meeting the young man? Or had it destroyed forever Kenshin's desire that his son should never know the truth? She would never know for sure, but she felt like he had wanted for her to tell him. Why would he have entrusted her with such precious mementos? She eyed her tansu. Was it time?

"I feel so silly," he whispered.

He eyes went back to him.

"You only had so much to work with, Kenji."

He shook his head and sighed.

"I think I understand," he paused. "But I don't think I can ever truly imagine what he felt like."

He looked her in the eyes.

"I'm still finding it hard to forgive him. I hate him," he stared at the cup his hand. "But I also can't help but love him."

Yumiko pushed the ledger across the floor towards him.

"These are all the letters your father sent me. I think you should read them."

He pulled the book towards himself but didn't pick it watched as she got up and walked to the tansu. She shifted a few books around to reveal a divider. Delicately, she pushed on the small wooden panel. It slid sideways to reveal an even smaller concealed space. She took out a thin bundle tied with red and white string. She handed it out to him.

"These were sent to me by your father. I was supposed to await instructions regarding them. Of course we both know I won't get them now."

He took the small parcel in his hand.

"They were addressed to you. I didn't open them. You should save them for last."

She kneeled down, filled up a cup of sake, and drank it in one shot.

"I will sleep in the mansion tonight. Ring if you need anything."

Without waiting for his answer, she wrapped herself in a woolen shawl, slipped on her shoes, and walked out the door.

Kenji considered the delicate parcel Yumiko had given him. Part of him wanted nothing more than to rip that paper open and read those first. He fought the urge a long while before setting the parcel next to the ledger. His father's letters. His fingers caressed the leather binding, hesitating. Even though she had given him permission, he felt like he was intruding on Yumiko's privacy. Not to mention his father's. He feared he would discover more horrors, more tragedies… more pain. He took a deep breath. He needed to finish this. He opened the book.

The first few letters were casual, filled with everyday occurrences of family life. Kenji was surprised at how detailed were his father's descriptions of him. He didn't remember most of the events mentioned, but it seemed like Kenshin had been following his son's growth my loving attention. Then, suddenly, the letters dramatically changed in tone and became more spaced in time.

 _5th Day of Minazuki_

 _Hokkaido is proving to be much harsher than I had expected. I hope my actions will result in better lives for the people, yet I have my doubts. I have little liberties to express my opinion. Katsura valued the input of a 15 year old more than these people now value mine._

 _I have requested that my past be kept secret from Kenji. Unable to give a reason to anyone but Kaoru without endangering them, I have angered my friends. Sanosuke especially. I haven't seen him before my departure, nor did anyone else do. I believe he might have gone to China._

 _I wonder what Kenji is doing right now…_

 _18th Day of Hazuki_

 _Returned home for a brief time. How did two years escape me? Kaoru is frowning at my upcoming assignment but I know she understands. How I wish I could have given her the life she deserves. I feel like everyone who gives me a share of their happiness ends up paying a heavy price. Kenji has grown so much and is on his way to becoming a brilliant kenkaku. I have missed so much… I left with a loving boy waiting for me at home only to come back to a child who behaves with me like one would with a stranger. I long to carry him on my shoulder and cradle him to sleep. Maybe that is the true path to atonement._

 _Still no news of Sanosuke…_

 _2nd Day of Kannazuki_

 _I am sick. Too long have I taxed this body, this borrowed life. I haven't told or shown Kaoru. She would insist that I stay. She would seek to care for me. I would want nothing more, but I can't afford to put their lives on the line. So I leave again. Kenji will not talk to me. His silent eyes only glare at me. I thought I knew pain when Tomoe died. How naive I was._

 _25th Day of Kirasagi_

 _My son hates me. He has mastered his mother's style and wishes to learn Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. I have refused his request. Never have I been so conflicted. I am so proud of the young man he is becoming my heart might burst at the seams. At the same time, fear is gnawing at me relentlessly. He can't be seen in Kyoto. People still remember._

 _Yet, I have sent word of Kenji to Hiko Seijuro and requested for my sword to be taken out of the shrine where Arai Shaku enshrined it. The boy has his mother's temper. I expect him to disobey my wishes. I will not have him fight with a subpar blade._

 _13th Day of Shiwasu_

 _I have found on my return that Kenji has run away to Kyoto. I am again proud and terrified. At least I can trust my master._

 _I can not longer hide my sickness. In her stubbornness Kaoru will have contratect it. Her devotion never ceases to amaze me. Is she trying to prove to me that she loves me as much if not more than Tomoe did? I don't know and can't ask. She begged me to stay and I almost gave in. But I can't. I am leaving for China this time. I still hope to find Sanosuke._

 _5th Day of Yayoi_

 _Hong Kong_

 _I have heard word of Sanosuke but the trail is cold. I am headed for Manchuria. The sickness that ails me is slowly devouring me. I can feel my mind slip away from my wasting shell. You will find included two letters for Kenji. My lawyer will contact you with instructions upon my passing._

 _Yumiko. There will never be enough words in this world to express my gratitude. Twice in my life now you have saved me from madness. I fear I have repaid you poorly. In another life we might have been happy._

 _Forever indebted to you_

 _Himura Kenshin_

Kenji lifted his eyes from the last words. He sighed and covered his face with his hands anew. More than ever, he realised that he had never seen his father as a person. He'd only ever been his absentee father, nothing more. But these words… They were unlike anything he could have ever imagined. That his father, after a life of hardship had still taken it on himself to protect them from whatever danger he thought might befall them… It was just too much. These letters also painted an image of his mother that was unfamiliar to him. He'd never believed that she had sought to share his father's sickness, yet there it was. He could have seen it as a lie, but there was something in his father's words that convinced him otherwise. Did Sanosuke know that Kenshin had never given up on him? He wanted to tell his friend that his father had always cherished him. He shivered. The fire in the irori had gone out.

He glanced at the small bundle, resting on the floor. He gingerly picked it up and pulled on the string. He unfolded the faded paper and found two small envelopes. He moved the ledger aside and set them evenly apart in front of him. One, yellowed and stained, had his name in faded in across the front. The characters were perfectly centered and traced in his father's beautiful hand. The second, less tattered, also had his name across the front. However, the characters were hesitant, skewed. He reached out for the first one. His hand stopped halfway, hovering above. He retracted his hand and set it on his lap. He couldn't. He simply couldn't.


	28. Chapter 28

_**Chapter 28**_

 _ **His Last Words**_

The messenger came in the dead of the night. His insistent knocking woke the entire household. Ai feared something had happened to her mother and so was half-relieved and half-worried when the message turned out to be for Sanosuke. The tall man read the succinct missive and without waiting for assistance, dressed himself up and saddled a horse. He assured the family that there was nothing to worry about but that he needed to make it back to the mansion post haste.

Sanosuke reached the gates as the sun rose on the horizon, blanketed by a heavy layer of grey clouds, the same clouds that had pelted him all night with heavy rain. These events weren't unfolding like Yumiko and he had planned. They had agreed that Sanosuke should be around when Kenji finally received the letters from his father. He had thought the young man too preoccupied by Sakurako to think of Kenshin. He had been wrong. He made straight to the stable, and, after entrusting his horse to a startled stable hand, he headed for Yumiko's house in search of the boy.

"Kenji!"

The door rattled as he pushed it open. He stepped in the entrance and, leaning on his knees to avoid having to unlace his boots, he peeked into the main room. The irori had long gone out. Beside it, the ledger and Kenji's disturbed futon lay in the empty room.

"Kenji?" he called again.

Silence. Where was that boy?

Kenji sat on the swing under the old oak tree. Sakurako and he had had their first real talk here. Back then, of course, the leaves had been a lush green, but now they were a vivid shade of red. A leaf tumbled down and fell in his lap. He picked it up. It was as scarlet at his sister's hair. As scarlet as his own hair. It was as red as his father's hair. He suddenly felt really aware of the soft paper against the skin of his chest in his hakamashita.

He'd spent the night tossing and turning, reaching for the letters countless times but finding himself unable to open them. He simply lacked the courage to do so. Yumiko's letters from his father had been filled with plenty of new information, but they'd been meant for her, not him. These two letters were different. They were addressed to him. Kenji had realised that he had never had the chance to discuss with his father man to man. Kenshin had been away most of the time and when he'd been around, Kenji had made any communication impossible. True, most of his friends' fathers hadn't been the talkative type either, but he had always felt that his father had wanted to build a connection with him. Of course, he had rebelled at the very thought of it, but now, he didn't know if he could handle the content of these letters. What if they made him see the relationship that could have been? Would he be able to handle the regret that might come with this revelation? Kenji closed his eyes and shivered. He should've taken a jacket.

The sound of wet footsteps brought him back to reality. He opened his eyes in time to see, with surprise, a weary Sanosuke close the distance between them.

"There you are," he said, slightly out of breath.

"You're already back? I thought you were…" he didn't finish his sentence. Had Yumiko informed Sanosuke that she had entrusted him with the letters? If that was the case, his friend had known more than he had let on all along.

Sanosuke leaned against the trunk of the tree.

"I see you've found Kenshin's tree," he joked, plucking a red leaf from a low branch and twirling it between his fingers.

Kenji nodded. Yes, this oak definitely was like his father. It stood alone, towering above them, quietly keeping guard as its roots dug deep in the ground, invisible and unfathomable.

"Did you…?" asked Sanosuke.

So the man did know. Kenji shook his head.

"I just can't… I assume you've seen the rest?" he asked, coldly.

Sanosuke nodded.

"Yumiko showed me everything first. She cares about you a lot, and so do I. She wanted to be sure you could handle it. But these last two, the ones addressed to you, she hasn't opened them. I haven't seen them, either. They are for you."

Kenji kicked the ground and swung back and forth on the swing in silence for a moment. In the distance, the sound of sheep bleating could be heard.

"Is this why she sent for you? Because she thought I might need you to handle my father's words?" he asked, in a chilly tone.

Sanosuke shrugged.

"Yes. We both thought that it would be best if I were around, in case you needed me."

"You've been more of a father to me in this last year that he has in all those years," spat Kenji. He could feel the familiar ball of anger rising in the pit of his stomach

Sanosuke kept his peace. The young man jumped off the swing, fished the letters out of his clothes and brandished them at Sanosuke.

"What am I supposed to do with this? Am I to forgive everything? Is this how he intends to be redeemed, with some words, casually written?"

Sanosuke took Kenji's place on the swing.

"I know of his past now; am I supposed to take his unfounded fears as an apology? To understand him through and through and move on?"

Kenji's voice boomed in the open field. His cheeks reddened by his fit of rage burned hot. His shortness of breath made him slightly dizzy.

"You're afraid," said Sanosuke, quietly.

"What?"

Sanosuke swung back and forth.

"You're afraid," he calmly repeated.

"I'm not afraid!" yelled Kenji.

Sanosuke immobilised the swing and stared the young man in the eyes.

"You are afraid."

"I AM NOT!"

Sanosuke got up.

"What are you waiting for, then?" he casually asked.

Kenji stared at the crumpled envelopes in his hands. He took a deep breath. He was afraid. He looked up at Sanosuke.

"Maybe you could read them to me…?" he felt panic rising in his chest.

The older man shook his head.

"These are for you. I will leave you to it."

Sanosuke took a few steps. He wanted nothing more than to hug the boy and assuage his fears. He turned around.

"I will be waiting at Yumiko's house. Come if you need me."

Without another word, he turned around and walked away. Fingers trembling, Kenji opened the first letter.

 _Ken-chan_

 _As I write this, you are fast asleep in my lap. Tomorrow I am leaving to go far, far away from you. I can't say how long I will be gone. I simply don't know. You won't understand why I am gone. You will cry, but it will pass. You will miss me, but this will pass, too. If I am gone too long, you will grow to resent me, maybe even hate me. This will not pass._

 _But right now, you breathe softly against me, your little hand clutching my hakama. Right now, you love me like I never believe I could ever be loved. In all my life, I never dared to wish for something so beautiful yet here you are. Leaving you is the hardest thing I will ever have to do. I am sorry for the hardship and pain that will indubitably come._

 _I do not ask for your forgiveness; I know I am undeserving._

 _But for now, you are asleep in my lap._

 _For now, I am still your hero._

 _For now, you are the entire world._

 _Oton_

 _Tokyo_

Kenji's chest hurt. It was as if the heavy weight in the pit of his stomach was about to take him down. He remembered that day. He remembered sitting with his father as the man took care of some correspondence or other. He remember his own hands, tracing characters on paper, patiently waiting for his father to be done with his task. A small blot of ink on the side of the page reminded him of splattering ink by accident. Kenshin hadn't gotten angry. He remembered, tired of waiting, climbing in his father's lap and falling asleep. His father's words were simple, but they conveyed his feelings better than anything else. Kenji couldn't ignore the blurred characters here and there. His father had been crying as he'd written these words. Kenji felt his eyes prickle. The poem… Had his father meant it as an addition the his beloved uta garuta game? He took a deep breath and opened the second letter.

Kenji covered his face with his hands and crouched down. His heart would surely burst. Burning tears streamed from his eyes uncontrollably. He sobbed loudly. He hid his face in his forearm.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Oton," he mumbled over and over like a litany.

A series of sobs wracked his body, forcing him to his knees. He leaned forward with a wail, hands clutching at the earth. Unfolded on the wet grass lay Kenshin's last words to him. Its single shaky line carried all the love of a father to his son.

 _Kenji,_

 _I am so proud of you._

 _Oton_


	29. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Kenji returned to Japan and finished his learning with Hiko Seijuro, all the while studying with private tutors in Kyoto. With the money of his trust, he bought Hadaka's plot of land and had a house built. Megumi and Sanosuke moved in. Kenji returned to England and completed a law degree at King's College London. He married Sakurako as her sponsorship ended. He went on the serve under Ambassadors Hayashi Tadasu's and Komura Jutaro in London before returning to Japan with his wife and two sons. Thanks to his friendship with Isaac, he played an active role in Japanese-American relations during World War I. His political career rose during the Taisho democracy years. In 1927, his disagreement with Japan's growing desire to leave the League of Nation and his overall negative view of the rise of Japanese fascism lead to his dismissal from his position in the government. Most of the Meiji Genro having passed away, he could not muster enough support to plead his cause. He retired but got involved with anti-war groups. He died on May 26, 1945, at the age of 63 during a US incendiary bomb raid on Tokyo. Throughout the years Kenji continued to practice both Kamiya Kashin Ryu and Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. He refused to teach the latter of his sons.

Sakurako remained in England after Kenji left and completed a degree at Victoria College in Manchester. She moved to London upon completion and lived with the Van de Meer until her marriage to Kenji. The couple rented rooms near Piccadilly Circus and welcomed their first son, Shinta, not long after. Sakurako was soon pregnant again but lost the child. After two more miscarriages (all girls) she gave birth to a healthy boy, Koshijiro. They soon moved back to Tokyo where she became an active member of the New Woman's association and later the Tokyo Federation of Women's Organizations. She ceased all involvement following Kenji's dismissal for fear of reprisal from the Showa government. Shinta, choosing a career in the military, fell out with his parents before being deployed in China. He survived the war years. Koshijiro was drafted as a Kamikaze in late 1944 and died in the Pacific theatre mere weeks before the end of the war. Sakurako never completely recovered from the loss. Having lost both her husband and her house in the Tokyo bombings, Sakurako moved back to her hometown where she was eventually joined by her surviving son. She died in 1964 at the age of 84.

Upon returning to Japan, Sanosuke was offered a proper job with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police by Saito Hajime. He did mostly undercover work until he got injured in the field. He was then transferred to a desk job with which he was relatively happy until Megumi passed away. Following her death, he moved to Japan occupied Taiwan, working as a local policeman in a small town. He never achieved his dream of marrying Megumi however they lived together under Kenji's roof for many years. He never offered Kenji to adopt him. He died at the age of 72 in 1931, not long after the Manchurian Incident.

Megumi continued her medical practice until she contracted tuberculosis; she died of complications of the disease in 1921 at the age of 66. She did refuse to marry Sanosuke but their life together turned into a loving, if unusual, partnership. She and Sakurako got along extremely well and she cherished Kenji's children like her own.

Ai Van de Meer's high society life continued in Yorkshire until WWI, at which point Penningcox Park was temporarily transformed into a hospital for wounded soldiers. Her sons Ken and Icarus enlisted with the army and fought in France. Icarus was killed in action during the Battle of Bazentin Bridge. Ken lost his right leg during the same battle. He returned home to his mother shell shocked and grief stricken. Once he recovered, he campaigned for better mental health support for veterans. Ai's daughter, Emily, married a Canadian doctor and moved to Vancouver, Canada shortly before 1912. She never returned to the UK and never saw her brother again. He husband enlisted as an army surgeon and survived the war. Ai visited her daughter in 1920 and, accompanied by Emily's eldest daughter, Clara, they journeyed to Japan in 1921. In 1929, Ai and Fersen weathered the Financial Crash but had to sell their London residence to remain afloat. Fersen died of liver cancer in 1940. Ai lived to be a hundred and died in her sleep in 1972 at her Yorkshire residence. Unable to maintain the house, Ken donated Penningcox Park to the UK National Trust in 1974.

Iribe Yumiko lived well into her 80s and died of old age in her sleep. Icarus' death made her go through Hikaru's death all over again. She kept an active correspondence with the Himura and the Sagara until she passed away. She never saw Japan again.

Yahiko and Tsubame went on to have three more children, of them one girl who took on Megumi's medical practice. Of their three sons, only one survived WW2.

Kenshin's oak tree still stands at Penningcox Park to this day. Every fall, the leaves turns a vivid shade of red.

NOTE

Thank you for following Kenji's story for 30 chapters! If you want more Kenshin related stories make sure to read "One of These Nights", "Gohatto" and "Beyond Love and Grief".


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